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UNDER 

BOY SCOUT COLORS 


BY 


JOSEPH B/AMES 

Author of “Pete, Cow-Puncher,” “The 
Treasure of the Canyon,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
WALT LOUDERBACK 



NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1917 



Copyright, 1916, 1917, by 
The Century Co. 


Published September^ 1917 


/ 

/ 

OCT 3 1917 

©C1,A47H360 


V 


TO 

THE MEMBERS OF TROOP FIVE 
FROM A GRATEFUL SCOUTMASTER 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTEE 

I 

The Live Wibe ... 





PAGE 

3 

II 

The New Tenderfoot 





12 

III 

The Silver Lining . 





26 

IV 

On the Gridiron . 





39 

V 

Trouble Ahead 





53 

VI 

The Quarrel .... 





65 

VII 

In the Last Quarter . 





77 

VIII 

The Good Turn 





86 

IX 

An Odd Thanksgiving 





96 

X 

The Surprise .... 





108 

XI 

Elkhorn Cabin 





121 

XII 

A Cry in the Night . 





130 

XIII 

What They Found 





140 

XIV 

The Boy Who Couldn’t Swim 




147 

XV 

The Rescue 





157 

XVI 

Trexler’s Transformation 





171 

XVII 

Dale’s Chance .... 





184 

XVIII 

A Question of Money . 





193 

XIX 

The Accident .... 





202 

XX 

First Aid 





212 

XXI 

Lost Mine Hill 





223 

XXII 

Around the Council Fire 





232 

XXIII 

A Surprise for Veddeb .. 





237 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIV The Missing Scout 243 

XXV Lost Mine Found . 253 

XXVI The Wish of His Heart 264 

XXVII The Surprise 272 

XXVIII War 282 

XXIX “Every Scout to Feed a Soldier^^ . . 294 

XXX The Silver Cross 301 

XXXI The Riot Wedge ..••••• 308 


LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS 

PAGE 

He jerked backward with all the strength he could 

summon ‘ . Frontispiece - 

‘‘Aw, quit it, fellows! It wasn^t anything^’ . . 43 ' 

y 

“What d^ you want?’’ he demanded . .... 99 

The stick slid over the jagged edges of the hole . . 153 

The car crashed into the weather-worn railing of the ^ 
bridge 209 

In an instant he was surrounded by excited boys . 257 

“Ranny!” he exclaimed impulsively. “You — ^ 

you—” 269 *'^ 

‘ ‘ Hold fast, boys ! ” he cried. ‘ ‘ Brace your feet and 
don’t let them break the line” 311 



UNDER 

BOY SCOUT COLORS 


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UNDER 

BOY SCOUT COLORS 


CHAPTER I 

THE LIVE WIRE 

D AIiE TOMPKINS slung the bulging bag of 
papers over one shoulder, and, turning 
away from the news-stand, walked briskly down 
the main street of Hillsgrove. The rain had 
ceased, and the wind that had howled fiercely all 
day long was shifting into the west, where it tore 
to tatters the banks of dun gray clouds, letting 
through gleams and patches of cold blue sky tinged 
with the pale, chill yellow of a typical autumn 
sunset. 

The cold look of that sunset was well borne out 
by a keen nip in the air, but Dale was too thankful 
to have it clear at all to complain. Besides, he 
wasnT exactly the complaining sort. Turning 
up the collar of a rather shabby coat, he thrust 
both hands deep into his trousers’ pockets and 
hurried whistling along, bent on delivering his 
papers in the quickest possible time. 

3 


'6 


4 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


ought to get home by seven, anyhow,’’ he 
thought calculatingly. ^‘And if Mother ’ll only 
give me a hurry-up snack, I ’ll be in time for meet- 
ing.” 

He rolled the last word under his tongue with 
the prideful accent of a novice. Then, with a sud- 
den start, one hand jerked out of his pocket and 
slipped between the buttons of the thread-bare 
coat. For an anxious moment it groped there be- 
fore the fingers closed over a metal badge, shaped 
like a trefoil, that was pinned securely to the 
flannel shirt. A somewhat sheepish grin over- 
spread the freckled face, and through an open gate 
Dale shot a paper dexterously across the porch to 
land accurately in the middle of the door-mat. 

’d hate to lose it the very first week,” he 
muttered, with a touch of apology. Mechanically 
he delivered another paper, and then he sighed. 
‘‘Gee! A month sure seems an awful long time 
to wait when you know about all the tests already. 
I could even pass some of the first-class ones, I 
bet ! That handbook ’s a dandy, all right. I 
don’t guess there was ever another book printed 
with so much in it, exceptin’, maybe — ” 

The words froze on his lips, and he caught his 
breath with a sharp, hissing intake. From some- 
where in the next block a scream rang out on the 
still air, so shrill, so sudden, so full of surprise 


THE LIVE WIRE 


5 


and pain and utter terror that Dale ’s blood turned 
cold within him, and the arm, half extended to toss 
a folded paper, halted in the middle of its swing, as 
if encountering an invisible obstacle. The pause 
was only momentary. Abruptly, as if two hands 
were pressed around a throbbing throat, the cry 
was cut otf, and in the deathly silence that fol- 
lowed, Dale hurled the paper hastily, but accur- 
ately, from him, and turned and ran. 

Eyes wide and face a little white, he tore across 
the road, splashing through puddles and slipping 
in the soft mud. Whirling around the comer into 
Pine Street, he saw a woman rush bareheaded out 
of a near-by house and two men come running 
down an adjacent alley. Rather, he noted them 
with that odd sense of observation which works 
intuitively, for his whole being was concentrated 
on the sight of that slight, boyish figure lying mo- 
tionless in the roadway. 

For a second Dale stared blankly, unable to un- 
derstand. His first thought was that some human 
agency had done this thing, but almost as swiftly 
he realized that there was no one in sight who 
could have stmck the child unconscious, nor had 
there been time for such an assailant to get away. 
Then, as he hurried closer through the gathering 
dusk, he caught sight of a trailing wire gripped 
convulsively in the small hands, and in a flash he 


6 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


realized tlie truth. In a flash, too, he realized that 
the body was not as motionless as he had supposed. 
A writhing, twisting movement, slight but cease- 
less, quivered through the helpless victim, from 
his thin, black-stockinged legs to the blue lips. To 
the white-faced lad bending over him it seemed to 
tell of great suffering borne, perforce, in silence — 
and he was such a little kid ! 

From Dale’s own lips there burst a smothered, 
inarticulate cry. Every idea, save the vital need 
of tearing loose that killing grip, vanished from 
the older boy’s mind. Heedless of a warning 
shout from one of the men, he bent swiftly for- 
ward and caught the child by one shoulder. 

What happened then Dale was never afterward 
able to describe clearly. It was as if some mon- 
strous tingling force, greater, stranger than any- 
thing he had ever known, struck at him out of 
the air. In a twinkling it tore him from the boy 
on the ground and hurled him almost the width 
of the street. He crashed against the stone curb- 
ing and for a second or two lay there, dazed and 
blinking, then climbed painfully to his feet. 

oughtn’t to have — touched him — ^with my 
bare hands,” he muttered uncertainly. must 
have got nearly the whole charge ! ’ ’ 

He felt faint and sick and wobbly. From the 
horrified group gathered helplessly around the 


THE LIVE WIEE 


7 


unconscious boy across the street, a woman’s hys- 
terical cry beat on his brain with monotonous iter- 
ation: ^^What can we do? What can we do? 
It ’s terrible! Oh, can’t you do something?” 

‘Hf we only had rubber gloves — ” murmured 
one of the men, vaguely. 

Where ’s a ’phone?” interrupted another. 
“ I ’m going to get ’em to shut otf the current ! ’ ’ 
‘‘You can’t,” some one replied. People were 
constantly rushing up to gasp and exclaim, but do 
nothing. “The power-house is clear over at Me- 
dina. It ’ll take too long to get the connection. ’ ’ 
“I ’m going to try, anyhow,” was the sharp re- 
tort. “It ’s better than doing nothing.” 

As he dashed past Dale and disappeared into a 
neighboring house, the boy moved slowly for- 
ward. He splashed through a puddle, and some- 
thing he had read, or heard, came back to him. 
Water was a perfect conductor, and he had been 
standing in a regular pool of it when he grabbed 
the child. No wonder he had been shocked. 

“Insulation,” he murmured, his head still swim- 
ming. “That ’s it! The handbook says — ” 

The bag of papers bumped against his thigh, 
and somehow Dale ’s numbed brain began to clear 
swiftly. How could he have forgotten that paper 
was a non-conductor as well as silk or rubber? 
Eubber! Why, the bag itself was made of some 


8 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


kind of waterproof stuff. He thrust aside a half- 
grown, gaping youth. 

‘‘Give me a show, can’t youU’ he cried almost 
fiercely. Thrilled, exhilarated with a sudden 
sense of power, he jerked the bag off his shoul- 
der. “The kid ’ll never live if he waits for you 
fellows to do something.” With extraordinary 
swiftness he pulled out several thicknesses of 
newspaper and wrapped them about one hand and 
arm. Similarly swathing the other, he dropped 
the rubber-coated bag to the ground and stepped 
squarely on it. His eyes were wide and almost 
black with excitement. “Oh, cut that out!” he 
snapped over one shoulder to a protesting by- 
stander. “Don’t you s’pose I hnow what I ’m do- 
ing ? I ’m a scout ! ’ ’ 

A second later he had gripped the unconscious 
child again by an arm and shoulder. This time 
there was no shock, only a queer, vibratory tin- 
gling that Dale scarcely noticed, so intent was he 
on doing the right thing. He must not bungle 
now. He remembered perfectly what the book 
said about releasing a person in contact with a 
live wire. It must be done quickly and cleanly, 
without unnecessary tugging, or else the shock 
and burning would be greatly increased. Dale 
braced his feet and drew a long breath. Then, 
suddenly, he jerked backward with all the 


THE LIVE WIEE 


9 


strength he could summon. The next thing he 
knew he was sitting squarely in a puddle with both 
arms around the child, whose grip on the deadly 
wire he had broken. 

Instantly the hitherto inactive group was roused 
to life and movement, and amidst a Babel of talk 
and advice they surged around the unconscious lad 
and his rescuer. Before the latter realized what 
had happened, some one had snatched the little 
chap from him and started swiftly toward one of 
the near-by houses. After and around them 
streamed a throng of men, women, and children, 
pitying, anxious, or merely curious, but, now that 
the danger was past, all equally voluble with sug- 
gestions or advice. 

Dale rose slowly to his feet, and stood for a 
moment staring after them with a troubled frown. 
^‘Why don’t they give him air?” he said. ^Hf 
only they wouldn’t bunch around him like 
that — ” 

He paused hesitatingly, watching the procession 
mount the steps and cross a wide veranda. The 
stress and excitement that had dominated him till 
now seemed to have vanished, and a reaction set 
in. He wondered whether folks wouldn’t think 
him too ‘‘fresh” for thrusting himself forward as 
he had done. The remembrance of the man to 
whom he had talked back made him wriggle uncom- 


10 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


fortably; it was one of his oldest customers. 
‘‘Gee!^’ he muttered, with a touch of uneasiness; 
‘‘I reckon I must have sassed him pretty well, 
too 

Dusk had given place to night. Under a flaring 
gas-light at the curb two early arrivals, who had 
stayed behind to guard the deadly, dangling wire, 
were busy explaining the situation to several wide- 
eyed later comers. They formed an animated 
group, and Dale, standing in the shadow behind 
them, felt curiously out of it and alone. The wind, 
sweeping up the street, struck through his wet 
clothes and made him shiver. 

‘ ‘ Time I was getting started, ’ ’ he thought. ‘ ‘ It 
must be awful late. ^ ^ 

As he bent over to pick up his bag, the move- 
ment set his head to throbbing afresh. His ex- 
ploring fingers encountered a lump, where he had 
hit the curb, that felt about the size of an ostrich- 
egg. Dale’s forehead wrinkled, and he opened the 
bag mechanically, only to find the remaining 
papers were soaked through and ruined. Those 
he had wrapped around his hands lay in the mud at 
his feet, soggy masses of pulp. And he had de- 
livered only four out of the lot ! 

Dale tried to smile, but his lips only quivered. 
With a second, more determined, effort, he 


THE LIVE WIKE 


11 


clenched his teeth tightly, slung the empty bag 
over his shoulder, and started back toward the 
news-stand. But he went in silence. Somehow 
the usual whistle was impossible. 


CHAPTEE II 


THE NEW TENDEKFOOT 

I T was close to half past seven before Dale de- 
livered his last paper. He had been delayed 
in the beginning by old Jed Hathaway ^s having to 
know all about it, and insisting on hearing every 
little detail before he could be induced to provide 
a second supply. Dale tried to be patient under 
the cross-examination of the garrulous old news- 
dealer, but it was nT easy when he knew that each 
minute wasted now was going to make it harder to 
get through in time for the scout meeting. When 
he was released at last, he hurried all he could, but 
the minute-hand of the old town-clock was peril- 
ously close to the perpendicular when he got back 
to the square again. 

Clearly, there was no time to go home even 
for that ^ ‘hurry up” snack he had been thinking 
about. There was nT even time to get a sandwich 
from the lunch-wagon, two blocks away. “Have 
to pull in my belt and forget about it till I get home 
after meeting, I reckon,” he thought. 

In suiting the action to the word he realized 
12 


THE NEW TENDERFOOT 


13 


that his hurried efforts at the news-stand to clean 
off the mud had been far from successful. It 
plastered his person, if not from head to foot, at 
least from the waist down, and now that it was 
beginning to dry, it seemed to show up more dis- 
tinctly each moment. He could nT present him- 
self before Scoutmaster Curtis in such a plight, so 
he raced across the square to his friend Joe 
Banta’s shoe-cleaning establishment, borrowed a 
stiff brush, and went to work vigorously. 

Brief as was the delay, it sufficed to make him 
late. Though not at all sectarian. Troop Five 
held its weekly meetings in the parish-house of the 
Episcopal church, whose rector was intensely in- 
terested in the movement. These were scheduled 
for seven-thirty on Monday evenings. There was 
usually a brief delay for belated scouts, but by 
twenty minutes of eight, at latest, the shrill blast 
of the scoutmaster’s whistle brought the fellows 
at attention, ready for the salute to the flag and 
the other simple exercises that opened the meet- 
ing. 

Precisely one minute later Dale Tompkins burst 
hastily into the vestibule and pulled up abruptly. 
Through the open door a long line of khaki-clad 
backs confronted him, trim, erect, efficient-looking. 
Each figure stood rigidly at attention, shoulders 
back, eyes set straight ahead, three fingers pressed 


14 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


against tLe forehead in the scout salute, and lips 
moving in unison over the last words of the scout 
oath. 

“ . . , *To keep myself physically strong, men- 
tally awake, and morally straight. 

“Colors post!^’ came crisply from the scout- 
master facing the line. 

From the shadows of the entry Dale felt a sort 
of thrill at the precision of the movement and 
the neatness with which the slim color-bearer, who 
had faced the line just in front of Mr. Curtis and 
his assistant, pivoted on his heel and bore the flag, 
its silken folds gently rippling, past the scouts still 
standing at attention and on out of sight toward 
the farther end of the room. 

Of course it was only Courtlandt Parker, who 
was in Dale’s grade at school and a very familiar 
person indeed. But somehow, in this role, he did 
not seem nearly so familiar and intimate. To the 
watching tenderfoot it was almost as if he had 
ceased for the moment to be the airy, volatile, 
harum-scarum “Court,” whose pranks and witti- 
cisms so often kept the whole grade stirred up and 
amused, and had become solely the sober, earnest, 
serious color-bearer of the troop. 

“A lot of it ’s the uniform, of course,” thought 
Dale. “It does make a whopping ditference in a 
fellow’s looks.” He glanced down at his own 


THE NEW TENDEEFOOT 15 

worn, still disheveled garments with sudden dis- 
taste. ‘ ‘ I wish I had mine ! ” he sighed. 

A moment later, still hesitating in the back- 
ground, reluctant to face that trim, immaculate 
line, he caught the scoutmaster’s glance, — that 
level, friendly, smiling glance, which was at once 
a salutation and a welcome, — and his head went 
up abruptly. What did looks matter, after all — 
at least the sort of looks one couldn’t help? He 
was none the worse a scout because he had not yet 
saved up enough money for that coveted suit 
of khaki. Nor was it his fault that he had lacked 
the time to go home and brush up thoroughly 
for the meeting. He smiled back a little at Mr. 
Curtis, and then, with shoulders square and 
head erect, he obeyed the leader’s silent sum- 
mons. 

There was a faint stir and a sense of curious, 
shifting eyes when he appeared around the end 
of the line of waiting scouts. As he passed Sher- 
man Ward’s patrol some one even whispered an 
airy greeting, ‘‘Aye, Tommy.” Though Dale did 
not glance that way, he knew it to be the irre- 
pressible Courtlandt, now returned to his position 
as assistant patrol-leader. Court was the only 
one who ever called him that, and the boy’s heart 
warmed at this touch of friendliness. Then he 
paused before the scoutmaster and promptly. 


16 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


though perhaps a little awkwardly, returned the 
man’s salute. 

’m glad to see you, Dale,” the scoutmaster 
said, in a tone which robbed the words of any 
trace of the perfunctory. ’d begun to think 
something was keeping you away to-night.” 

The boy flushed a little. ‘‘I — I was delayed, 
sir,” he explained briefly. ‘‘I — — it won’t hap- 
pen again, sir. ’ ’ 

‘‘Good!” The scoutmaster nodded approval, 
his glance sweeping meditatively over the three 
patrols. He was slim and dark, with eyes set 
wide apart, and a humorous, rather sensitive 
mouth. The boys liked him without exactly know- 
ing why, for he was not the popular athletic type 
of scoutmaster, nor yet the sort of man who domi- 
nates by sheer force of personality and commands 
immense respect if nothing more. 

“Most of you fellows know Dale Tompkins, our 
new tenderfoot,” he went on presently, raising his 
voice a little. ‘ ‘ For the benefit of those who don’t, 
I ’ll say that he passed an extra good examination 
last week, and I ’ve an idea he ’s going to be a 
credit to the troop. He will take Arnold’s place 
in Wolf patrol, which brings us up to our full 
strength again. That ’s the one at the head of the 
line, Tompkins. Patrol-leader Ranleigh Phelps 
will take you in charge and show you the ropes.” 


THE NEW TENDEEFOOT 


17 


Dale’s heart leaped, and a sudden warm glow 
came over him. He had never exchanged a word 
with Eanny Phelps, and yet the handsome, dash- 
ing leader of Wolf patrol probably had more to do 
with Tompkins ’ becoming a member of Troop Five 
than any other cause. The boy liked Mr. Curtis, 
to be sure, and was glad to have him for a scout- 
master, but his feeling for Phelps, though he had 
never expressed it even to himself, was something 
deeper than mere liking. To him, the good-look- 
ing, blond chap seemed everything that a scout 
should be and so seldom was. Perhaps one of the 
reasons was because he always contrived to look 
the part so satisfyingly. Whenever the troop ap- 
peared in public, Phelps’s uniform fitted to per- 
fection, his bearing was invariably beyond criti- 
cism, his execution of the various manoeuvers was 
crisp, snappy, faultless. In athletic events, too, he 
was always prominent, entering in almost every 
event, and coming out ahead in many. And he 
was physically so picturesque with his clean-cut 
features, gray eyes, and mass of curly blond hair, 
his poise and perfect self-possession, that gradu- 
ally in the breast of the rugged, unornamental 
Tompkins there had grown up a shy admiration, 
a silent, wistful liking which strengthened as time 
went on almost to hero-worship, yet which, of 
course, he would have perished sooner than re- 


18 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

veal. When he had at length gained his father's 
grudging permission to become a scout, it was this 
feeling mainly which prompted him to make ap- 
plication to Troop Five. He had not dared to 
hope that Mr. Curtis would actually assign him to 
Ranny Phelps's patrol. 

‘^You mean I — I 'm to stay in — in Wolf patrol, 
sir ? " he stammered incredulously. 

The scoutmaster nodded. ‘Ht 's the only va- 
cancy. Both the others are filled. Ranny will 
show you where your place is, and then we 'll 
proceed with the drill." 

With face a little flushed, the tenderfoot turned 
and took a few steps toward the head of the line. 
Just what he expected from his hero he could not 
have said. Perhaps he vaguely felt that Phelps 
would step forward and shake his hand, or at 
least greet the new-comer with a welcoming 
smile. But Ranny did not stir from his place. 
Stiff and straight he stood there, and as Tomp- 
kins paused hesitatingly, the shapely lips curled 
unpleasantly at the corners, and the gray eyes 
ranged slowly over him from head to heel and 
back again in a manner that sent the blood 
surging into the boy's face and brought his lids 
down abruptly to hide the swift surprise and 
hurt that flashed into his brown eyes. 

“At the end of the line, tenderfoot," ordered 


THE NEW TENDERFOOT 19 

Phelps, curtly. ‘'And donT be all day about 

The latter words were in an undertone which 
could not well have reached beyond the ears of 
the lad for whom they were intended. The chill 
unfriendliness of the whole remark affected Dale 
Tompkins much like a douche of ice-cold water. 
With head suddenly erect and lips compressed, 
he swiftly took his place at the end of the patrol, 
next to a plump, red-cheeked boy named Vedder, 
who, «ave for a brief, swiftly averted side-glance, 
gave no further evidence of welcome than had 
the leader. 

In the brief pause that followed while the 
assistant patrol-leaders procured staves and dis- 
tributed them, the tenderfoot tried to solve the 
problem. What was the matter? he asked him- 
self in troubled bewilderment. What had he 
done that was wrong? Naturally a cheerful, 
friendly soul, he could not imagine himself, were 
their positions reversed, treating a stranger with 
such chill formality. But perhaps he had ex- 
pected too much. After all, there was no reason 
why the fellows should break ranks in the middle 
of meeting and fall on his neck, when not more 
than a third of the crowd had ever spoken to 
him before. For a moment he had forgotten that 
while he had long ardently admired Ranny 


20 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

Phelps from afar^ the blond chap had probably 
nev6r even heard his name before. It would be 
different when they came to know each other. 

Cheered by this thought, Dale braced up and 
flung himself with characteristic ardor into ac- 
quiring the various movements of the drill. 
These were not difficult, but somehow, try as he 
might, he could not seem to satisfy his leader. 
At every slightest error, or even hesitation, 
Ranny flew out at him with a caustic sharpness 
that swiftly got the tenderfooUs nerve and made 
him blunder more than ever. Yet still he found 
excuses for the fellow he so admired. 

‘‘You can’t blame anybody for not liking to 
coach up a greenhorn when all the rest of them do 
it so well,” he said to himself after the meeting 
was over and the boys were leaving the hall. 
“It ’s the best patrol of the three, all right, and 
I ’ll just have to get busy and learn the drill, so ’s 
not to make a single mistake.” He sighed a lit- 
tle. “I wish — ” 

“What ’s the matter. Dale? Seems to me 
you ’re looking mighty serious.” 

A hand dropped on his shoulder, and Dale 
glanced swiftly up to meet the quizzical, inquiring 
gaze of Mr. Curtis. He hesitated, an instant, a 
touch of embarrassment in his answering smile. 

“Nothing much, sir,” he returned. “I 


was 


THE NEW TENDERFOOT 


21 


just thinking what a dub I am at that drill, and 
wishing — a complete uniform costs six-thirty, 
does n ’t it, Mr. Curtis . 

The scoutmaster nodded. Would you like me 
to order one for youT’ 

Dale laughed a little wistfully. sure 
would!’’ he ejaculated fervently. ‘‘The trouble 
is I only have about four dollars and that isn’t 
enough. ’ ’ 

“Not quite.” The man hesitated an instant, 
his eyes on the boy’s face. “I ’ll tell you what 
we can do, though,” he went on slowly. “If you 
like, I ’ll advance the difference so that you can 
have it right away, and you can pay me back 
whenever it ’s convenient.” 

For a moment Dale did not speak. Then he 
shook his head regretfully. “It ’s mighty good 
of you, sir, but I guess I ’d better — ” He paused 
abruptly, and a slow flush crept into his face. 
“Does a fellow have to have one? Would I be — 
that is, if I did ’n’t have one for a while, will it — 
make a lot of ditference for the other fellows — 
will it look bad for the troop?” 

Mr. Curtis laughed suddenly, and his hand 
tightened a bit on the boy ’s shoulder. ‘ ‘ Bless you, 
no !” he exclaimed. “Get rid of that notion right 
away. I thoroughly believe in every scout’s 
wanting a uniform, and working for it, and wear- 


22 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

ing it whenever he can, and being proud of it, but 
I ’d hate awfully to have him feel that he was 
out of place in Troop Five without one. It ’s the 
spirit that makes the scout, not clothes, and I ’m 
just a little glad you did n’t accept my offer. Dale. 
Keep on saving for it, and, when you Ve enough, 
come to me. Meanwhile — you say you didn’t get 
the drill very well?” 

‘‘No, sir. I was rank.” 

“That ’s because you ’re new to it, and to the 
crowd, and everything. It really is n’t hard. If 
you can come around to my house after supper 
to-morrow night, I ’ll coach you up in half an hour 
so you can’t make a mistake next Friday if you 
try. That ’ll put you on even terms with the rest 
of the troop, and make you forget this little matter 
of clothes. How about it?” 

Dale’s eyes brightened. “That would be cork- 
ing, sir! Of course I can come, only won’t it be 
a trouble to you?” 

“Not a bit. Come any time after seven. You 
know where I live, don’t you?” 

“Yes, sir. I ’ll be there, all right; and thank 
you ever so much for helping me.” 

“You needn’t,” smiled the scoutmaster. “It 
will be a pleasure. He dropped his hand and was 
turning away when his glance rested on the boy ’s 
solid-looking shoulders and then traveled on down 


THE NEW TENDEEFOOT 23 

over the lithe frame. ‘^Play football he asked, 
with a touch of fresh interest. 

Dale nodded eagerly. ‘‘Yes, sir; as much as 
I Ve had time for, that is. Do — do you think I ’d 
have any show for the teamT’ 

“I shouldn't wonder. See Sherman Ward; 
he ’s captain. The season ’s half over, but we 
need weight behind the line, and it would n ’t sur- 
prise me if you ’d do. Try it, anyhow. Good 
night ; see you to-morrow. ’ ’ 

Dale found his cap and slipped out of the build- 
ing, a pleasant glow stealing over him. “He ’s 
corking!’^ he muttered, as he followed the flagged 
walk that led past the shadowy bulk of the stone 
church to the street. “He makes a fellow feel — 
well, sort of as if he belonged ! ’ ^ 

He had been a chump to let himself be troubled 
by Eanny Phelpses brusqueness. “Of course he 
was peeved when I made such a mess of things,’^ 
he thought. “Just wait till next Friday, though, 
and he fll — ’’ 

Dale’s progress along the walk and his train 
of thought stopped abruptly at one and the same 
time. He had reached the side of the squat stone 
tower that faced the street, but was still in the 
shadow, when the voice of Eanny Phelps, some- 
what shrill with temper and unmistakably scorn- 
ful of accent, smote suddenly on his ears. 


24 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


‘^The idea of a mucker like that being in Troop 
Five — and in my own patrol, too ! It ’s simply 
sickening! You saw him to-night; so stupid he 
could n’t even learn the drill, and did anybody ever 
see such clothes? They look as if they ’d come 
out of the rag-bag.” 

An indistinguishable murmur in another voice 
seemed merely to goad the irate patrol-leader to 
increased frenzy. 

‘ ^ That ’s just it — a common newsboy ! He ’ll be 
an ornament to the troop, won’t he? He ’ll make 
a fine-looking scout, he will ! I can just see what 
a rotten mess he ’ll make of the line if we should 
have to march in public. Mr. Curtis must be crazy 
to take in such riffraff, and I ’ve half a mind to 
tell him — ” 

The rest of the remark was indistinguishable, 
for the speakers were moving away from the 
church in the direction of the better class, resi- 
dential section. Presently, even the rising and 
falling murmur of voices ceased, but still the figure 
in the shadow of the church tower did not stir. 
When at last he moved slowly forward into the 
circle of an electric light, something of the hard 
grayness of the stone might almost have come into 
his face. 

scout is a friend to all and a brother to 
every other scout,’ ” he said, half aloud, as he 


THE NEW TENDERFOOT 25 

turned in an opposite direction to that taken by 
Phelps and his companion. 

Then he laughed. It was n’t exactly a pleasant 
sound. There was no mirth in it; only scorn, de- 
rision, and, under all the rest, a note of pain that 
could not quite be hidden. 


CHAPTER III 


THE SILVEB LINING 

S AY, fellows, did you hear about Jimmy War- 
ren’s kid brother?” eagerly inquired Court 
Parker, skipping up to a group gathered about the 
school steps next morning. 

From force of habit, expectant grins wreathed 
several faces. ‘ ‘ Huh ! ’ ’ grunted Bob Gibson, sus- 
piciously. ^‘What ’s the joke?” 

Joke!” repeated the latest comer, indignantly. 
1 1 Tjiere is n ’t any j oke. What gave you that idea ? 
It came pretty near being serious, I can tell you. 
One of the electric feed-wires got loose in the 
storm yesterday, and hung down in front of Jim- 
my’s house on Pine Street. Before anybody else 
saw it, that crazy kid Georgie had to go out and 
grab hold of it with both hands.” 

He paused an instant for breath, and a con- 
certed exclamation went up from the crowd that 
had gathered swiftly about him. ‘^Gee!” ex- 
claimed stout Harry Vedder. ‘‘And the current 
still on, I s ’pose?” 


26 


THE SILVER LINING 


27 


‘‘Of course it was! Dad told me how many 
volts. I forget. Anyhow, Georgie got hold and 
couldn’t let go. They said he yelled to heat the 
band, and then went clean out. A crowd got 
around right away, but nobody seemed to know 
what to do. One man ran in and started ’phoning 
for ’em to turn off the current; and while he was 
gone, what do you think happened? A kid with a 
bunch of papers came along, and jumped right in 
and grabbed hold of Georgie to pull him off the 
wire. They said that when the current hit him 
it was like being kicked by a horse. He went 
clean across the street and banged his head an 
awful whack on the curb. He got up sort of 
groggy, but he must have been a game one, for 
he came right back, wrapped some newspapers 
around his hands, and had Georgie loose in a 
jiffy!” 

“Great!” came in an appreciative chorus. 
Then one of the third-grade boys piped up curi- 
ously. “But what good was the newspaper?” 

“Insulation, of course,” spoke up Sherman 
AVard, from the outskirts of the group. He was 
tall enough to look over the heads of most of the 
fellows, and spoke with a certain authority. “If 
he hadn’t used them he ’d have got the shock as 
he did the first time. That ’s some idea, though, 
fellows. I don’t believe I ’d have remembered, 


28 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 

right off the hat, that paper was a non-conductor. 
Who was he, Court U’ 

^‘Nobody knows; that ’s the funny part of it.’’ 
Court thrust back a dangling lock of brown hair 
with a characteristic gesture. ‘‘It was pretty 
near dark, and everybody was excited, and all 
that, Mrs. Warren told Dad when he was over 
this morning. She said she only noticed that he 
wasn’t so very tall and carried his papers in a 
bag over one shoulder. She forgot all about him 
till after they ’d got the kid into the house and 
the doctor had come. Then when she sent some- 
body out to see, the chap had gone.” 

At once the throng of boys was plunged into 
a fever of interested speculation. The idea of an 
unknown appearing suddenly out of the darkness, 
doing his spectacular stunt, and slipping away 
again without revealing himself appealed tre- 
mendously to the imagination. The fact that he 
was a boy and quite possibly one of themselves 
vastly increased the interest. One after another 
the various fellows with paper routes were sug- 
gested, but for the most part as quickly dismissed. 
One was too tall, another delivered in a different 
part of town, two more were part of the present 
assemblage and reluctantly denied any connection 
with the affair. 

“Maybe it was that fellow Tompkins,” doubt- 


THE SILVEE LINING 


29 


fully suggested Bob Gibson, when most of the 
other possibilities had been exhausted. ‘‘He goes 
past Pine Street, doesnT heP’ 

A sudden low laugh touched with scorn, from 
the outskirts of the circle, turned all eyes to 
where Eanny Phelps leaned against the iron 
railing. 

“You ’re quite a joker, are n’t you. Bob!” com- 
mented the blond chap, with a flash of his white 
teeth. 

Gibson sniffed. “I don’t see anything so awful 
funny in that,” he retorted. “He does go past 
Pine Street about every night; I ’ve seen him 
often.” 

“Quite possibly,” agreed Phelps, suavely. “I 
never said he did n’t, you old grumbler. He prob- 
ably went past last night, but take my word for 
it he didn’t turn in. You don’t suppose that 
thickhead would have the gumption to do what 
this chap did, or the wit to know about paper 
being a non-conductor, and all that? Not in a 
thousand years!” 

Bob’s mouth set stubbornly; he was one who 
never lost a chance to argue. “I don’t see it at 
all!” he retorted. “Just because you say so 
does n’t make him thick. I noticed you picking on 
him last night, and I tell you right now that any- 
body might seem — ” 


30 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


‘‘He didn’t seem brainless — ^he was/^ inter- 
rupted Phelps with cool, scornful certainty. 
fellow who could manage to fall over his feet as 
many times as he did in that simple little drill, 
and make as many breaks — ” 

He paused suddenly and bit his Kps. At the 
farther edge of the wide circle the face of Tomp- 
kins himself had loomed all at once into his sur- 
prised consciousness, and something in the boy’s 
level, unsmiling, somber glance brought a twinge 
of shame to Ranleigh’s heart. For an instant 
he stood silent, striving to resume his usual cool 
nonchalance. Then he turned away with a shrug. 

“But after all,” he drawled, “it ’s hardly worth 
while arguing about. Who ’s got that seventh 
problem in Geom! It ’s a sticker, all right.” 

It was well enough done to deceive most of the 
fellows about him, particularly since the sound 
of the last bell started the crowd up the steps 
and into the school building. But Court Parker 
had noted the direction of Ranny’s glance, and a 
gleam of indignation flashed into his eyes. For a 
moment he stood biting his lips; then his face 
cleared and he pounced on Tompkins. 

“Well, were you, Tommy*?” he demanded airily. 

“Was I what r ’ countered the other, briefly. 

“The hero — the chap who leaped into the 
breach and saved Georgie Warren from a — a — an 


THE SILVER LINING 


31 


electrocutive finish/^ Court’s metaphors might 
be mixed, but his vocabulary seldom lacked origi- 
nality. Tompkins merely shrugged his shoulders 
and frowned a bit. 

‘‘Is it likely r’ he asked, with a touch of bitter- 
ness. ‘ ‘ Even if I ’d had the chance, I ’m too thick 
to—.” 

“Rot!” cut in Court, swiftly. As they went 
up the steps he flung an arm impulsively around 
the other’s shoulders. “Don’t you worry about 
anything Ranny Phelps says. Nobody ever pays 
any attention to him, anyhow. I do wish I knew 
who that plucky chap was, though. It was a cork- 
ing thing to do. You have n’t heard any one say, 
have you. Tommy!” 

Tompkins hesitated an instant, an odd inde- 
cision in his face. A few minutes ago he might 
have found a boyish pride and pleasure in his 
friend’s surprise at learning his part in the af- 
fair. Now he merely shook his head. “Those 
I ’ve heard — talking about it, didn’t seem to 
know,” he returned shortly. 

“Humph! Well, I guess I ’ll have to start my 
mighty brain working and do the Sherlock Holmes 
stunt,” decided Court, philosophically. “Say! 
Won’t Jimmy be crazy, though, to be away at 
school with all this happening to his own family. 
I can just see him squirm ! ” 


32 


UNDER BOY. SCOUT COLORS 


As they entered the coat-room his volatile mind 
leaped to another topic. ‘‘There ’s one good 
thing; old top; you can come out for the troop 
team now. That 11 be great I Don’t forget 
there ’s practice right after school this aft. ’ ’ 

Dale slapped his cap on a hook and turned 
away. “I’m not coming out,” he said gruffly, 
making for the door. 

Court’s eyes widened. “Not coming out for 
football ! ” he repeated amazedly. 

“No!” 

“Why not, for goodness’ sake?” 

“I don’t want to,” was the almost ungracious 
retort. 

Court sniffed incredulously. ‘ ‘ Tell that to your 
grandmother! Haven’t I seen you play often 
enough to know better! Wait a second.” At the 
entrance of the coat-room he caught Tompkins by 
the arm, and, whirling him around, stared into his 
face. “If you think for a minute,” he went on 
with some heat, “that anybody — You old idiot! 
You make me sick with your silly notions. I ’ll — 
I ’ll settle you, though.” 

With which cryptic and somewhat fragmentary 
comment, he slapped Dale briskly on the back 
and slipped into his seat, leaving the other to 
seek his own place on the farther side of the 
room, unconsciously heartened a bit by his fel- 


THE SILVEE LINING 


33 


low^s friendliness. But a moment later his fore- 
head wrinkled perplexedly. Court had a little 
habit of impulsively settling the affairs of nations 
offhand, and his last remark seemed to indicate 
that something of the kind was in his mind at 
present. 

‘‘Well, whatever it is, he wonT get me to come 
out for the team,’^ decided Tompkins, his jaw 
squaring stubbornly. “They donT think I ’m 
good enough for them, and I ^m not going to force 
myself where I ^m not wanted. ’ ’ 

Those few words overheard just before had 
opened afresh the wound of the night before and 
confirmed Dale ’s conviction that he was not 
wanted in Troop Five. With the exception of 
one or two of the boys who had been friendly 
before, he felt that the scouts agreed with Ranny 
Phelps in resenting his presence in the crack troop 
of Hillsgrove. Because his father was a working- 
man, because he himself sold papers to eke out 
the family income, because, in short, he was poor 
and had come to meeting in rather shabby clothes 
instead of a natty uniform, they looked down on 
him as an interloper who had no business to be 
there. He w;ould merely be inviting further 
slights by appearing on the football field and try- 
ing for a position on the troop eleven. 

“I can just see Sherman Ward^s expression if 


34 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


I did!” lie thought bitterly. ‘‘He’s the niftiest 
one of the lot, with his father owning the iron 
works and about half the town besides. He 
would n’t waste much time on me, I guess !” 

Taken all in all. Dale failed to pass either a 
pleasant or a profitable morning. He tried to 
keep his mind on the lessons, but that wasn’t 
easy. He had not yet decided whether or not to 
remain in the troop, and this question seemed so 
much more vital and important than arithmetic 
problems or dates in ancient history that his 
thoughts returned to it again and again. He 
hated the idea of staying where he was n’t wanted, 
and yet to leave now would look as if he were a 
coward, afraid to face the jibes and sarcasms of 
the fellows who did n’t like him. 

The end of the morning session found the prob- 
lem still unsolved. Dale was a little slow putting 
his books away, and when he came to look for 
Parker, who usually walked home with him, Court 
was nowhere to be seen. As he left the building 
he noticed a bunch of high-school boys from up- 
stairs laughing and fooling on the corner. Ranny 
Phelps was among them, and several other mem- 
bers of Troop Five, and unconsciously the tender- 
foot paused for an instant and half turned as if to 
seek the other exit. A second later his lips tight- 
ened and a dull flush came into his cheeks. He 


THE SILVEE LINING 


35 


never went home that way, why should he take it 
now! Swiftly he turned back, and with head high 
in a desperate effort to look unconscious, he 
started briskly down the walk. He was within a 
dozen feet of the jolly group when all at once there 
came a hail from behind. 

‘‘Hi, Dale!’’ 

Astonished, he turned at the call to see Sherman 
Ward coming down the school steps. For a mo- 
ment it seemed as if he must have been mistaken, 
but the older chap quickly settled that doubt. 

“Wait a minute, kid,” he went on; “I want to 
talk to you. ’ ’ 

In an instant Dale’s interest in the throng at 
the corner vanished. Surprised, curious, a little 
on the defensive, he watched the approach of the 
senior patrol-leader. 

“I forgot to speak to you last night about foot- 
ball,” Sherman began at once with brisk, casual 
friendliness. “You play, don ’t you ! ’ ’ 

“A — a little,” stammered Dale, dazed by the 
absence of what he had so fully expected in the 
other’s manner. 

“What position!” 

“Er — tackle, and — and half-back — sometimes.” 

“You ought to be a pretty good back if you ’ve 
got speed,” mused the older chap, his glance 
appreciatively taking in the boy’s sturdy build 


36 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


and good shoulders. ‘‘The season ’s well along 
and the team ’s made up, but we need more weight. 
Troop One ^s the only team we ’re afraid of, but 
we Ve simply got to lick them and nab the pen- 
nant. I ’ll try you out this afternoon. Practice 
at three-thirty sharp in the field back of my place. 
We ’ll go right over from school. You go this 
way, don’t you I” 

The throng at the corner had broken up, and 
the two were practically alone. Dale nodded and 
mechanically fell into step. He had been steeling 
himself for something so very different that in a 
second his defenses were swept entirely away. 
Ward’s perfect assurance of his readiness to play 
made even hesitation seem the action of a selfish 
cad unwilling to do his best for his troop. Be- 
sides, Dale did not want to refuse — now. 

“How is it you never thought of being a scout 
before!” asked Ward, as they cut across corners 
toward Main Street. “Wasn’t there any troop 
where you came from!” 

Dale shook his head. “No; and after we got 
here Father — didn’t want me to join. He — ^he 
did n’t seem to understand about it, and so — ” 

He paused; Ward nodded comprehendingly. 
“Sometimes they don’t,” he said. “Well, it ’s all 
right now. You ’re in, and you don’t look like a 


THE SILVEE LINING 


37 


chap who ’d stay a tenderfoot long, especially with 
a scoutmaster like Mr. Curtis. He ^s a corker, all 
right, and does everything to help a fellow along. 
I should n’t wonder if you ’d be ready for second- 
class exams as soon as the month is up. ’ ’ 

Dale’s eyes brightened. ’ll certainly try 
’em, anyhow. I can pass a lot of the tests now, 
I think, and I ’m going to bone up on the others 
hard.” 

‘‘That ’s the boy!” smiled Sherman. “If I can 
help you in anything, let me know. Well, this is 
my corner. So long. Don’t forget practice at 
three-thirty sharp. ’ ’ 

With a wave of his hand he turned down Main 
Street, leaving Dale to stare after him for a mo- 
ment or two, an odd expression on his freckled 
face. 

“Why, he ’s — he ’s not a bit what I — He ’s 
just like — ” He ended with a deep-drawn breath 
and turned homeward, head high and shoulders 
squared. 

Somehow the blue of the sky seemed suddenly 
deeper, the sunshine brighter than it had been be- 
fore. The crisp, clean autumn air had a tang in 
it he had not noticed until this moment He drew 
it into his lungs in great gulps, and his eyes 
sparkled. 


38 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


‘‘The pants ^11 do/’ he murmured to himself; 
“so will the jersey. I have n’t any decent shoes, 
but I ’ve played in sneakers before. And there ’ll 
be time to deliver the papers after five. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER IV 


ON THE GEmiRON 

R ANNY PHELPS left the school building 
that afternoon in a distinctly disagreeable 
mood. He had been feeling vaguely irritable all 
day, but since noon there had developed grouchy 
tendencies, as Court Parker termed them, and he 
was ready to flare up at the slightest provocation. 
On the way down-stairs he had flown out at Harry 
Vedder, one of his particular followers, for no 
other reason than that the stout youth expressed 
an indolent conviction that the new tenderfoot 
could play football better than he could drill, and 
that he would probably show up on the field. The 
blow-up, instead of relieving pressure, as such 
things often do, seemed to deepen Phelps’s dis- 
content, and seeing Ward on the walk just ahead 
of him, he yielded to a sudden impulse and hastily 
caught up with him. 

^^Look here, Sherm,” he began hastily, ‘^you ’re 
not really thinking of — of — ^using that nut Tomp- 
kins, are you I” 

The football captain glanced sidewise at him — a 

39 


40 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


cool, level stare. ‘‘Why not!’’ he asked briefly. 
‘ ‘ He ’s a member of the troop, is n ’t he ! ” 

Ranny realized his mistake, but temper kept him 
to it. “Oh, yes! yes, of course,” he snapped pet- 
ulantly. “Unfortunately he is, but I don’t see 
why you should encourage him. If he ’s shown 
that he — he — is n’t wanted, he may have the wit to 
—to—” 

Conscious of 'Ward’s prolonged, quizzical glance, 
the blond chap faltered, and then, furious at him- 
self and with his companion, he went on angrily: 
“You needn’t look like that. You know yourself 
he ’s the extreme limit. Look at him now ! ’ ’ He 
waved one hand jerkily toward a group ahead, 
which included the boy under discussion chatting 
eagerly with Parker and Bob Gibson. “He ’s a 
disgrace to the troop with that horrible-looking 
suit, all rags and frayed, and — and his hair brush- 
ing all over his collar; I don’t believe it ’s been 
cut in months.” 

“Well, what of it!” inquired the taller chap 
composedly, as Ranny paused for breath. 
“What ’s his hair or his clothes got to do with his 
being a good scout!” 

“Everything!” snapped Ranny, biting his lips 
and striving to keep down his temper. “A fellow 
that amounts to anything will — ^will keep himself 
decent looking even if he is — ^poor. Besides he — 


ON THE GRIDIRON 


41 


You saw him last night; couldn’t do the simplest 
thing without making a show of himself. Take 
my word for it, he’ll never amount to anything. 
He ’s a dead loss, and I wish — I can’t think what 
you see in — ” 

He broke off with grating teeth, maddeningly 
conscious of the futility and ineffectiveness of his 
words. It was n’t at all the sort of thing he had 
meant to say. He realized that temper had dead- 
ened judgment, and that the whole must sound 
excessively silly and childish. He fully expected 
his companion to greet the outbreak with open 
ridicule, but when he looked up, he discovered 
with mingled annoyance and relief that Ward 
wasn’t listening at all. Instead, he was staring 
at the group ahead with an expression of such 
frank curiosity and interest that instinctively 
Ranny followed the direction of his schoolmate’s 
eager glance. 

Eight or ten boys, mostly upper-grade gram- 
mar-school students and about half of them scouts, 
were bunched together at the corner of a cross- 
street. Apparently they had been halted by a man 
of middle age who was talking with considerable 
animation, the while keeping one hand on the 
shoulder of Dale Tompkins, who looked exceed- 
ingly sheepish and uncomfortable. As Ranny 
stared, puzzled, he was amazed to see Court 


42 


UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


Parkei leap-suddenly at his classmate with a pierc- 
ing yell, clutch him about the waist, and execute a 
few steps of a wildly eccentric war-dance. Then 
he thumped the tenderfoot violently on the back, 
and finally the whole crowd flung themselves on 
the boy in a body. As Ward and Phelps hastily 
approached, the victim was engulfed by numbers, 
but his vehement, embarrassed protests sounded 
intermittently above the din. 

‘‘Aw, quit it, fellows ! Lay otf, wonT you! It 
was n’t anything. I — Cut it out — do ! ’ ’ 

“Here ’s the missing hero!” called Court Par- 
ker, shrilly. “Where’s the leather medal!” 
Suddenly he slid out of the throng and faced the 
newcomers, his eyes shining. “What do you 
know about Tommy!” he demanded. “He ’5 the 
mysterious guy who rescued Georgie Warren last 
night. Fact! Mr. Pegram was there and saw 
him. He was the one who ’phoned the company 
to shut otf the current, you know. Says Tommy 
was cool as a cucumber and had all kinds of nerve 
And this morning he never let out a peep about 
it, even when I asked him. Some kid, eh, Sherm ! ’ ’ 

Ward grinned. “The secretive young beg- 
gar!” he exclaimed. “By jinks! That ought to 
mean a medal, sure! And he a tenderfoot only 
a week ! ’ ’ 

He moved forward toward the throng, eager for 





“Aw, (|uit it, f(‘ll<)ws! Jt wasn't anytliin<^ 






















ON THE GRIDIRON 


45 


further details. Ranny did not stir. His face 
was blank, and his mind, usually so active, failed 
for a second or two to take in the meaning of 
what he had heard. When at length he realized 
the truth, a sense of grudging admiration stole 
over him. From one of those present at the affair 
last night he had had an unusually vivid account 
of the accident. He understood the risks the hith- 
erto unknown rescuer had run, and fully appreci- 
ated his nerve and resourcefulness. For a flash- 
ing second he was filled with an impulse to follow 
Ward^s example and add his brief word of 
congratulation to the chorus, but the impulse was 
only momentary. In a second or two he had 
crushed it back, passed the noisy group, and 
headed toward the football field alone. 

How absurd he had been even to think of such 
a thing! The details had probably been greatly 
exaggerated. Doubtless, Tompkins had merely 
blundered into the affair and done the right thing 
through sheer fool luck. At any rate, he still re- 
mained precisely the same individual whose 
presence Ranny had considered a blot on the ap- 
pearance of the troop and likely to injure its 
‘ ‘ tone. ’ ’ There seemed to him no reason why this 
latest development should alter his treatment of 
the fellow a particle. 

Ward and the rest reached the field not long 


46 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


after Phelps, and no time was lost in commencing 
practice. Tompkins was started off with the 
scrub, an organization composed mostly of scouts 
who were too small or lazy or indifferent or un- 
skilful to make the regular eleven, together with 
a few outsiders who had been persuaded into 
lending their aid merely for the fun of the game. 
It was a motley crowd, and Sherman had his hands 
full holding them together. One or two, to be 
sure, were stimulated by the hope, which grew 
fainter with each day of practice, that they might 
supplant some member of the regular team in time 
to play in the game of the season, the struggle 
with the redoubtable Troop One, which would end 
the series and decide the championship. But the 
majority had no such dominating incentive. 
Their interest flagged continually, and it was only 
by a constant appeal to their scout spirit, by re- 
buke and ridicule, interspersed with well-timed 
jollying, that they could be kept to the scratch. 
When Dale Tompkins was given the position of 
right tackle, the boy whose place he had taken 
openly rejoiced, and not a few of his companions 
viewed the escape with envy. 

The regulars started with the ball, and the first 
domi netted them eight yards. The second plunge 
through the line was almost as successful; the 


ON THE GRIDIRON 


47 


third even more so. The scrub played apathet- 
ically, each fellow for himself. They lacked co- 
hesion, and many of the individuals opposed the 
rushes half-heartedly and without spirit. Little 
Saunders, the scrub quarter, while working at full 
pressure himself, seemed to have grown discour- 
aged by past failures to spur the fellows on. Oc- 
casionally he snapped out a rasping appeal for 
them to get together and do something, but there 
was a perfunctory note in his voice which told how 
little faith he had in their obeying. 

To Ward, playing at left half on the regulars, 
it was an old story which had ceased, almost, to 
fret him. He had come to feel that the utmost 
he could hope for was to keep the scrub together 
and gain what practice was possible from their 
half-hearted resistance. Keeping his eye on 
Tompkins, he noted with approval that the boy 
was playing a very different sort of game. He 
flung himself into the fray with snap and energy, 
tackling w^ell, recovering swiftly, and showing a 
pretty knowledge of interference. But it was 
soon apparent that his work failed more or less 
because of its very quickness. At every rush he 
was a foot or two ahead of the sluggish Vedder at 
guard or the discouraged Morris playing on his 
right. He might get his man and frequently did. 


48 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


but one player cannot do all the work of a team, 
and the holes in the line remained as gaping as 
before. 

The regulars scored a touchdown and, return- 
ing to the center of the field, began the process 
anew. There was a sort of monotonous iteration 
about their advance that presently began to get 
a little on Sherman’s nerves. The crisp, shrill 
voice of Court Parker calling the signal, the thud 
of feet over the turf, the crash as the wedge of 
bodies struck the wavering line and thrust its way 
through it and on, on, seemingly to endless dis- 
tance in spite of the plucky efforts of the boy at 
right tackle to stop it — it was all so cut and dried, 
so certain, so unvaried. Now and again would 
come the tired, ill-tempered snap of Saunders’s 
‘^Get into it, fellows! Wake up, for the love of 
Pete!” Occasionally, from left end, Ranny 
Phelps would make some sarcastic reference to 
Ward’s great find,” to which, though it irritated 
him, the captain paid no heed. He was still watch- 
ing critically and beginning to wonder, with a little 
touch of anxiety, whether Tompkins was going to 
be engulfed in the general slough of inertia. In 
this wise the play had progressed half-way toward 
the scrub’s goal-posts when suddenly a new note 
was injected into the affair. 

‘‘Steady, fellows. Let’s get together. It ’s 


ON THE GEIDIKON 49 

just as easy to fight back as to be walked over — 
and a lot more fun. Hold ’em, now ! ’ ’ 

The voice was neither shrill nor snappish, but 
pitched in a sort of good-natured urgency. One 
guessed that the owner of it was growing weary 
of being eternally butfeted and flung aside. 
Ranny Phelps greeted the remark with a sar- 
castic laugh. 

Great head!” he jeered. ‘‘You must be quite 
an expert in the game. Why don ’t you try it T ’ 
Dale Tompkins raised his head and dashed one 
hand across a dripping forehead. “That ’s what 
we ’re going to do,” he smiled; “aren’t we, Mor- 
ris, old man? Come ahead, Vedder; all we need 
is a little team-work, fellows.” 

Stout Harry Vedder merely grunted breath- 
lessly. But somehow, when the next rush came, 
his fat shoulders dropped a little lower and he 
lunged forward a shade more swiftly than he had 
done. Wilks, the weakest point in the opposing 
line, caught unexpectedly by the elephantine rush, 
went down, and Tompkins brought the man with 
the ball to earth by a nice tackle. 

“That ’s the stuff,” he gasped as he scrambled 
up. “Good boy! I knew you ’d do it. Again, 
now ! ’ ’ 

The regulars scored another touchdown, but it 
took longer than the first. Insensibly the line in 


50 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


front of them was stiffening. The backs got into 
the game; the left wing, stirred by a touch of 
rivalry, perhaps, began to put a little snap into 
their work. By the time the regulars had forced 
the pigskin for the third time over their oppo- 
nent's goal-line, the scrub seemed actually to be 
waking up. Vedder grumbled continually, but 
nevertheless he worked; many of the others blus- 
tered a bit to cover their change of tactics. It 
was as if they were doubtfully testing out Tomp- 
kins ^s statement that it was more fun to fight back 
than to be walked over, and finding an unexpected 
pleasure in the process. 

Amazed at first, Sherman Ward lost no time in 
helping along the good work. After the third 
down he gave the scrub the ball and urged them 
to make the other fellows hustle. They took him 
up with a will. Saunders’s perfunctory bark be- 
came snappy and full of life ; more than one of the 
hitherto grouchy players added his voice to the 
general racket. But through it all, the good- 
natured urgence of Dale Tompkins, with that un- 
derlying note of perfect faith in their willingness 
to try anything, continued to stir the fellows to 
their best efforts. The swiftly falling autumn twi- 
light found the regulars fighting harder than they 
had ever done before to hold back the newly gal- 
vanized scrub. To the latter it brought a novel 


ON THE GRIDIRON 51 

sensation. For the first time on record they were 
almost sorry to see the end of practice. 

Streaking across the field to the shed which had 
been fixed up for a dressing-room, they laughed, 
and joked, and vehemently discussed the latter 
plays. 

‘‘Wait till to-morrow!’’ shrilly advised one of 
the scrub. “We won’t do a thing to you guys, 
will we. Tommy!” 

“That ’s the talk!” agreed Tompkins, smilingly. 
“We ’ll make ’em hump, all right.” 

He seemed quite unconscious of having done 
anything in the least out of the ordinary. On the 
contrary, he was filled with grateful happiness at 
the subtle change in the manner of many of the 
fellows toward him. It was n’t that they praised 
his playing. Except Sherman, who briefly com- 
mended him, no one actually mentioned that. But 
instead of Tompkins, they called him Tommy; 
they jollied and joshed him, argued and disputed 
and chaffed with a boisterous friendliness as if he 
had never been anything else than one of them. 
And the tenderfoot, hustling into his clothes that 
he might make haste to start out with his papers, 
glowed inwardly, responding to the treatment as 
a flower opens before the sun. 

From the background Ranny Phelps observed 
it all with silent thoughtfulness. Quick-witted as 


52 


UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


lie was, it did not take long for kim to realize tke 
changed conditions, to understand that he could 
not longer treat the new-comer with open, care- 
less insolence as a fellow who did not count. But 
far from altering his opinion of Tompkins, the 
new developments merely served to strengthen 
his dislike, which speedily crystallized into a de- 
termination to do some active campaigning against 
him. 

‘‘With a swelled head added to all the rest, he ’ll 
he simply intolerable,” decided Phelps. “I guess 
I ’ve got a little influence left with the crowd in 
spite of all this rot.” His eyes narrowed omin- 
ously as they rested on Harry Vedder chatting af- 
fably with the cause of Eanny’s ill temper. “I ’ll 
start with you, my fat friend,” he muttered con- 
temptuously under his breath. “You need a good 
jacking-up before you indulge in any more foolish- 


ness. 


CHAPTEE V 


TBOUBLE AHEAD 

I N spite of all that had happened that day, Dale 
did not forget his appointment with Mr. Curtis. 
He hurried through supper, and pausing only to 
tell his mother where he was going, he slipped 
out of the house and started at a trot toward the 
scoutmaster’s house. Mr. Curtis himself opened 
the door, greeted the hoy cheerily, and ushered 
him into a room on the left of the hall, a room 
lined with books and pictures, with a fire glowing 
and sputtering on the hearth and some comforta- 
ble arm-chairs drawn up beside it. 

‘‘Well, young man,” he said briskly as soon as 
Dale was seated, “I We been hearing things about 
you this afternoon.” 

Dale flushed, and his fingers unconsciously in- 
terlocked. The affair of the afternoon before had 
been “rubbed into him” at intervals all day, so 
that he almost dreaded further comment. It 
seemed as if it had been talked about quite enough 
and ought now be allowed to fall into oblivion. 

53 


54 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


He hoped Mr. Curtis was nT going to ask him to 
go over all the details again. 

“You seem to have managed admirably/’ went 
on the scoutmaster, in a matter-of-face manner. 
“What I ’d like to know, though, is how you, a 
tenderfoot of barely a week’s standing, happened 
to be so well posted on electricity and insulation 
and all the rest of it?” 

“It — it ’s in the handbook,” explained Dale, 
haltingly. 

“So it is,” smiled the scoutmaster; “but it is n’t 
a part of the tenderfoot requirements. I even 
doubt whether many second-class scouts would be 
up on it. Have you gone through the whole book 
as thoroughly?” 

Dale leaned back in his chair more easily. ‘ ‘ Oh 
no, sir, not all! But that part ’s specially inter- 
esting, and I — I like to read it.” 

“I see. Well, it was a good stunt — a mighty 
good stunt! It’s the sort of thing true scouting 
stands for, and I ’m proud of you.” In his glance 
there was something that told a good deal more 
than the words themselvcjs, but somehow Dale 
didn’t mind that. “I suppose, though, you ’ve 
been hearing nothing else all day and must be 
rather tired of it, so we ’ll go on to this drill busi- 
ness. This is only one feature of our work, and 
perhaps the least important since we ’re a non- 


TROUBLE AHEAD 


55 


military organization. But it helps set a fellow 
up, it teaches him obedience and quick thinking, 
and is useful in a number of other ways, so we Ve 
included it in the program. The movements 
are n T intricate. Suppose you take that cane over 
in the corner, and I ’ll go through them with you. ’ ’ 

Dale obeyed promptly, and, returning with the 
article in question, stood facing the scoutmaster, 
who had also risen. With the feeling of being 
under inspection, he had naturally taken a good 
position, shoulders back and chin up, and Mr. Cur- 
tis nodded approvingly. 

‘‘That ’s the idea!” he said. “With the com- 
mand ‘Attention!’ you take practically that posi- 
tion, heels together, shoulders back, chin up, and 
eyes straight ahead. Hold the staff upright with 
the thumb and first two fingers of the right hand, 
one end on the ground and the upper part against 
your right shoulder. That ’s the attitude you re- 
turn to after each one of the movements. Now 
let’s try the first one.” 

There were not more than six or seven of these, 
and the scoutmaster’s instructions were so clear 
and explicit that Dale wondered, with a touch of 
chagrin, how he could possibly have bungled so on 
the night of the meeting. In less than half an 
hour he had the different evolutions fixed firmly 
in his mind and the cane was laid aside. 


56 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


‘‘You ’d better run through them every night 
for ten minutes or so until they come intuitively, 
without your having to stop and think, advised 
the scoutmaster. “The main thing is to put snap 
and ginger into it, so that the whole line moves as 
one. How did the football go? You were out, 
were n^t you?” 

“Yes, sir,” the boy answered, his eyes lighting. 
“It was dandy! It ^s a cracker jack team, all 
right, and we ’re going to work like sixty to get 
that pennant. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That ’s the idea ! ’ ’ smiled Mr. Curtis. He had 
returned to his chair, but the boy remained stand- 
ing beside the table. “It will mean work to take 
the game from Troop One ; they Ve a corking 
team, you know. But I think if — Won’t you 
sit down again, or have you lessons to get?” 

Dale hesitated. The pleasant room with its 
glinting fire was very tempting. He had glimpsed 
a number of interesting-looking old weapons and 
pieces of Indian beadwork, too, on the walls or ar- 
ranged along the tops of the bookcases, which he 
would like to examine more closely. But, on the 
other hand, eight waiting problems in algebra and 
some stiff pages of grammar loomed up to dis- 
suade him. 

“Thank you very much, sir, but I guess I ’d 


TROUBLE AHEAD 57 

better not to-night/’ he finally decided. “I 
haven’t anything done yet for to-morrow.” 

‘‘You must come again, then,” smiled the scout- 
master. “ I ’m always glad to have you boys drop 
in, even when you have n’t anything special to talk 
over. Good night ; and good luck with the football. 
I may see you at practice to-morrow. ’ ’ 

Dale found it hard to wait for that moment. 
He was devoted to football, and he had not really 
played in almost a year. Small wonder, therefore, 
that he looked forward eagerly to even humdrum 
practice. He did not propose to stay on the scrub 
if hard work and constant effort could lift him to 
something better. But even if he failed of ad- 
vancement, he loved the game enough for its own 
sake to give to it unceasingly the best that was in 
him. 

As the days passed it began to look as if the 
pleasure he got merely in playing and in the belief 
that his efforts contributed a little to the good of 
the team was to be his sole reward. All that week 
he played left tackle on the scrub, save for half an 
hour or so on Friday when Ward tried him at right 
half, only to return him presently to his former 
position. 

But if Dale was disappointed, he did not show 
it. He told himself that it was too soon to expect 


58 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


anything else. Sherman would naturally wish to 
try him out in every way before making a change 
in the line-up. So the tenderfoot kept himself vig- 
orously to the scratch, growing more and more 
familiar with the various formations and carefully 
studying the methods of the fellows opposite him. 

It was this latter occupation which brought the 
first faint touch of uneasines«s regarding the 
strength of the team at large. He could not be 
quite sure, for of course ordinary practice seldom 
brings out the best in a player, but it seemed as 
if the fellows were a bit lacking in unity and co- 
hesion. Of one thing at least he grew certain be- 
fore he had been on the scrub two days. Wilks, 
at left tackle, was hesitating and erratic, with a 
tendency to ducking, which would have been even 
more apparent but for the constant support and 
backing of Eanny Phelps. The latter seemed not 
only able to play his own position with dash and 
brilliancy, but also to lend a portion of his strength 
and skill to support the wavering tackle. When- 
ever it was possible, he contrived to take a little 
more than his share of buffeting in the forward 
plunge, to bear the brunt of each attack. There 
were times, of course — notably when Eanny him- 
self carried the ball — that this was impossible, 
and then it was that Wilks ’s shrinking became un- 
mistakable. 


TROUBLE AHEAD 


59 


‘‘He got cold feet,’^ decided Tompkins, with 
the mild wonder of one to whom the game had 
never brought anything but exhilaration and de- 
light. “They must be mighty good friends for 
Phelps to help him out like that!’’ 

He sighed a little wistfully. Eanny was letting 
no chance slip these days to show his disapproval 
of the newest member of the troop. There were 
others, too, who followed his example and treated 
the tenderfoot with marked coldness. Even stout 
Harry Vedder, though occasionally forgetting 
himself in the heat of play, lacked the good-na- 
tured friendliness of that first day. To be sure, 
these were far from being a majority. They in- 
cluded practically only the members of Eanny 
Phelps’s own patrol; the others had apparently 
accepted Tompkins as one of the bunch and con- 
tinued to treat him as such. But Dale’s was a 
friendly nature, and it troubled him a little, when 
he had time to think about it, to be the object of 
even a passive hostility. 

These moments, however, were few and far be- 
tween. What with football every afternoon, with 
lessons and occasional studying for the second- 
class tests, to say nothing of his paper-route and 
some extra delivery-work he had undertaken to 
add to his “suit” money, his days were pretty full. 
Besides, that doubt as to the entire efficiency of the 


60 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


team continued to worry him much more than any 
small personal trouble. 

On Saturday they played Troop Six, and Dale 
sat among the substitutes on the side-lines. It 
was an admirable chance for sizing up the playing 
of the team as a whole, and before the end of the 
second quarter his freckled forehead was puckered 
with worried lines. He had no fear of their losing 
the game. Their opponents had notoriously the 
weakest team in the entire scout league, and al- 
ready two goals had been scored against it. The 
tenderfoot was thinking of next Saturday, and 
wondering more and more what sort of a showing 
the fellows would make then. 

Earlier in the season. Dale had watched Troop 
One throughout an entire game, and even then he 
had noted their clever team-work. As individuals, 
perhaps, they might not match up to his own or- 
ganization. There was no one quite to equal the 
brilliant Ranny Phelps, the clever quick-witted 
Ward, or the dependable Wesley Becker at full. 
But the boy knew football well enough to realize 
that in the long run it isn’t the individual that 
counts. Freak plays, snatching at chance and the 
unexpected, may sometimes win a game, but as a 
rule they avail little against the spirit of cohesion 
when each fellow works shoulder to shoulder with 
his neighbor, supporting, backing up, subordinat- 


TEOUBLE AHEAD 


61 


ing himself and the thought of individual glory to 
the needs of the team. During the past week Dale 
had felt vaguely that it was just this quality Troop 
Five lacked. Now the certainty was vividly 
brought home, with all the advantages of a sharp 
perspective. The center, alone, seemed fairly 
strong and united, with Boh Gibson in the middle 
‘‘Turk^’ Gardner at right guard, and Frank San- 
son at left. But Sanson got no help at all from 
Wilks, who, in his turn, took everything from 
Ranny Phelps. Court Parker made an admirable 
quarter-back, and Ward and Becker played the 
game as it should be played. But Slater at right 
tackle and Torrance behind him made another pair 
who seemed to think more of each other and of 
their individual success than of the unity of the 
team. They were great chums. Dale reflected 
thoughtfully, and in Ranny Phelps’s patrol. He 
wondered if that had anything to do with it. He 
wondered, too, whether Sherman realized the situ- 
ation. 

“But of course he does!” he muttered an in- 
stant later. “Isn’t he always after them to get 
together, though sometimes it seems as if he might 
go for them a little harder? I — I hope they do — 
before it ’s too late.” 

But somehow he could not bring himself to be 
very confident. To pull together a team that has 


62 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


been playing ‘‘every man for bimself’^ is one of 
the hardest things in the world. Defeat will often 
do it more thoroughly than anything, but, in their 
case, defeat would mean the loss of all they had 
been striving for. It would have been better had 
they been up against any other team to-day. 
Pushed hard and forced to fight for a slender vic- 
tory, they might have realized something of their 
weakness. But the very ease with which goal af- 
ter goal was scored brought self-confidence and 
cock-sureness instead of wisdom. 

“I guess we ’ll grab that little old pennant, all 
right,” Dale heard more than one declare in the 
dressing-room. ‘ ‘ Why, those dubs actually scored 
a goal on Troop One ! ’ ’ 

The boy wanted to remind them that this was 
at the very beginning of the season, and since 
then two of their best men had left Troop Six 
for boarding-school. But from a raw tenderfoot 
and inconsidered member of the scrub any such 
comment would savor of cheekiness, so he kept 
silent. 

On Monday the practice started out in such a 
casual, perfunctory manner that Sherman sud- 
denly stopped the play and lashed out, sparing no- 
body. He was white-hot, and not hesitating to 
mention names, he told them just what he thought 


TEOUBLE AHEAD' 63 

of their smug complaisance, their careless, un- 
founded confidence. 

You fellows seem to think all you have to do is 
to show up on the field Saturday and the other 
crowd are going to take to cover!’’ he snapped. 
“You walk through the plays without an idea of 
team-work, or mutual support, or anything. That 
is n’t football; it ’s just plain foolishness! Why, 
the lines are as full of holes as a colander — and 
you don’t even know it ! I tell you, unless we get 
together and stop those gaps and work for the 
team right, that game Saturday will be a joke.” 

He hesitated an instant, striving for self-con- 
trol. When he went on, his tone was slightly mod- 
erated. ‘ ‘ Come ahead, now, fellows ; let ’s get into 
it and do the thing the way it should be done. We 
can if we only will.” 

Unfortunately, the appeal failed more or less 
because of its very force. Sherman’s one fault 
as a captain was a certain leniency of disposition. 
He was a bit easy-going, and preferred to handle 
the fellows by persuasion rather than force. The 
latter did not realize that it was n’t the happenings 
of that day alone which had so roused his wrath, 
that these were only the culmination of all their 
shortcomings for weeks past, that they had been 
accumulating until the pressure became so great 


64 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


that an explosion had to come. A few of the play- 
ers understood, but the very ones who needed his 
advice the most set down the outburst to whim or 
temper or. indigestion. Either they airily ignored 
it, or else grew sullen and grouchy. In either case 
they failed to make a personal application of his 
words, and the situation remained practically un- 
changed. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE QUAEREL 

G reat cats and little kittens!’^ exclaimed 
Court Parker, stopping suddenly beside the 
flagpole on the green. ‘ ‘ I certainly am a chump. ^ ’ 
^‘Just as you say,’’ grinned the tenderfoot. 
“I ’d hate to contradict you. How ’d you happen 
to find it out all by yourself, though?” 

They were on their way to the scout meeting, and 
up to that moment had been deep in a serious dis- 
cussion of the football situation. But Parker was 
not one to remain serious for very long at a 
stretch, so his sudden outbreak failed to surprise 
Dale, even though he might be ignorant of its 
cause. 

“Why, I had it all planned to coach you up on 
the drill this week, so you could put one over on 
Ranny,” explained the volatile youth, as they 
started on again; “but I clean forgot. Hang it 
all!” 

Dale smiled quietly to himself. “I shouldn’t 
wonder if I could get it to-night,” he said briefly. 
“It ’s not so awful hard, is it?” 

65 


66 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


“N-n-o, but you know Ranny; he ’s sure to try 
and trip you up. Oh, well, no use crying over spilt 
milk! Just donT let him rattle you, and we ’ll 
have you letter-perfect by next meeting.” 

Dale ’s lips twitched again, but he made no fur- 
ther comment as they hurried along Main Street 
and turned in beside the church. It was with very 
different feelings from the last time that he en- 
tered the parish-house, hung up his cap, and joined 
one of the groups gathered in the meeting-room. 
He was still the only one present without a uni- 
form, but to-night he wore his best suit, his hair 
was smooth and glistening, and he could almost 
see himself in the brilliant polish of his shoes. It 
all helped to increase his poise and the feeling of 
self-confidence his knowledge of the drill had given 
him. 

Mr. Curtis was away that night, and Wesley 
Becker was in charge. The assistant scoutmas- 
ter was perfectly capable of conducting the meet- 
ing, but being only a year or two older than many 
of the boys, it was inevitable that discipline should 
tend to relax slightly. There were no serious in- 
fractions, of course; the fellows, as a whole, were 
too well trained and too much in earnest for that. 
But now and then a suppressed snicker followed 
the utterance of a whispered jest, and Wesley had 
occasionally to repeat his orders before they were 


, THE QUARKEL 67 

obeyed with the snap and precision that invariably 
followed the commands of Mr. Curtis. 

Dale was not one of the offenders, if such they 
could be called. In the beginning he was too in- 
tent on going through the newly acquired evolu- 
tions of the drill to have much thought for any- 
thing else. Later on, the behavior of Ranny 
Phelps took all his attention. 

The leader of Wolf patrol was far from being 
in the best of humors. Perhaps the events of the 
afternoon had soured his temper ; or possibly the 
mere sight of Tompkins standing erect at the end 
of the line made him realize that his efforts to put 
the tenderfoot in his place had been more or less of 
a failure. At any rate, when staves were dis- 
tributed and the drill commenced, he at once re- 
newed his nagging, critical attacks of the week be- 
fore. 

For a time Dale tried not to notice it, trusting 
that his careful, accurate execution of the ma- 
noeuvers would in itself be enough to still the un- 
just criticism. But presently he began to real- 
ize that Phelps w^as deliberately blind to his im- 
provement, and a touch of angry color crept into 
his face. In the next figure he made a minor slip, 
and a snicker from Wilks increased Dale’s irrita- 
tion. 

‘^Take your time, Tompkins, by all means,” 


68 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


urged Phelps, sarcastically, when Becker ordered 
a repetition of the movement. Maybe by the 
end of the evening you ’ll be able to do one of the 
figures half-way right.” 

Dale’s lips parted impulsively, but closed again 
without a sound issuing forth. A dull, smolder- 
ing anger began to glow within him, and one hand 
gripped his staff tightly. What right had Ranny 
Phelps to shame and humiliate him before the 
whole troop? He was doing his best, and he felt 
that the showing was n’t such a bad one for a fel- 
low who had been in the troop little more than 
a week. Any decent chap would have understood 
this and made allowances, would even have helped 
him along instead of trying by every means in his 
power to make him fail. Dale’s chin went up a 
trifle, and his teeth clenched. By a great effort 
he managed to hold himself in for the remainder 
of the drill, but the anger and irritation bubbling 
up inside resulted in several more errors. When 
the drill was over and the fellows stood at ease for 
a few minutes before starting some signal-work, 
Phelps strode over to the new recruit. 

^‘What ’s the matter with you, Tompkins?” he 
said with cold sarcasm. ‘‘At this rate, you ’re 
likely to spend the whole winter getting a few sim- 
ple stunts into your head.” 

Dale’s eyes flashed. “It might not be a bad 


THE QUAEREL 69 

idea to leam a few of the scout laws yourself,’^ he 
snapped back impulsively. 

‘‘What ’s that?” 

Ranny^s voice was cool and level, but his eyes 
had narrowed and a spot of color glowed on each 
cheek. The fellows near them suddenly pricked 
up their ears and turned curiously in their direc- 
tion. 

“I said it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to 
learn some of the scout laws,” repeated Dale, heed- 
less of everything save the anger and indignation 
surging up within him. ‘ ‘ There ’s one about being 
friendly, and another that says a scout is helpful. 
Maybe you know them by heart, but I don’t be- 
lieve — ” 

“That ’ll do!” cut in Ranny, harshly. “I cer- 
tainly don’t need any advice from you on how 
to—” 

“You mean you won’t take any,” interrupted 
Dale, hotly. 

“Patrols, attention!” rang out Becker’s voice 
sharply. 

Neither of the boys paid any heed; it is doubt- 
ful whether they even heard him. Tight-lipped, 
with fists clenched, they glared at one another 
from eyes that snapped angrily. In another mo- 
ment, however, Becker gripped Phelps tightly by 
the shoulder and whirled him around. 


70 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


^^Cut that out and go back to your place!” he 
said sternly. ‘‘I called for order.” 

Ranny glowered at him for a moment, and then, 
without a word, turned on his heel and strode back 
to the head of the line. In the hush that followed. 
Dale drew a long breath and swallowed hard. His 
face still burned, and the fingers of his right hand 
were stiff and cramped from the grip he had un- 
consciously maintained on his staff. With an 
elaborate attempt at nonchalance, he listened to 
Becker’s directions about the signaling, but all the 
while he was wondering what the fellows thought 
of him and wishing, with increasing fervency, that 
he had kept his self-control instead of flaring up 
in that foolish way. 

For the remainder of the evening Phelps seemed 
coolly oblivious of Dale’s existence. He did not 
even glance at the tenderfoot, though on the way 
out the two stood for a moment within arm’s- 
length in the entry. He had apparently quite re- 
covered his composure, but there was a cold hard- 
ness about his mouth that brought a queer, unex- 
pected pang to Tompkins. 

Not for the world would he have acknowledged 
it to any one — even to Court, who, with several 
others, expressed unqualified approval of the way 
in which Ranny had been ‘‘set down.” It is 
doubtful, even, had he been given a chance to live 


71 


THE QUAEEEL 

over the evening, if his conduct would have been 
any different. But there could be no question of 
his keen regret that instead of thawing Phelpses 
coolness by his increased proficiency at the drill, 
he had only succeeded in vastly increasing the 
boy’s animosity. 

On Wednesday afternoon Dale was made the 
unconscious cause of still further adding to Ean- 
ny’s ire. After half an hour of play. Ward sud- 
denly ordered Larry Wilks out of the line-up and 
told Tompkins to take his place. 

At the command the tackle started, stared in- 
credulously at Sherman, and then, with lowering 
brow and an exaggerated air of indifference, 
turned and walked deliberately off the field. For 
an instant Eanny stood silent, a deep red flaming 
into his face. Then he whirled impulsively on 
Ward. 

‘‘Are you crazy, Sherm!” he demanded hotly. 
“Why, you ’ll queer the whole team by sticking in 
a greenhorn only three days before the game. ’ ’ 

“I don’t agree with you,” retorted Ward, 
curtly. He spoke quietly enough, but a faint 
twitching at the corners of his mouth showed that 
he was holding himself in with difficulty. “Wilks 
has had plenty of warnings, and has seen fit to 
disregard them utterly. Besides,” his voice took 
in a harder tone as his eyes followed the depart- 


72 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 

ing player he had counted on using in the scrub, 
’d rather use anybody — ^little Bennie Ehead, 
even — than a fellow who shows the lack of spirit 
he does. Take your place, Tompkins. Frazer, 
shift over to right tackle on the scrub. Edwards, 
you come in and play left guard for to-day. Scrub 
has the ball.^’ 

Eanny Phelps bit his lip, glared ill-temperedly, 
and then subsided. Tompkins shifted over to the 
regulars, his mind a queer turmoil of delight at the 
advancement, and regret and apprehension at this 
new cause for bickering among the players. Prac- 
tice was resumed, but there was a notable feeling 
of constraint among the fellows, which did not en- 
tirely pass off as the afternoon wore away. 
Eanny held himself coldly aloof, playing his own 
position with touches of the old brilliancy, but ig- 
noring the chap beside him. Torrance and Slater, 
and one or two of the scrub who were part of the 
Phelps clique, whispered occasionally among them- 
selves, or darted indignant glances at the tender- 
foot as if he were in some way responsible for the 
downfall of Wilks. Dale tried not to notice it all, 
and devoted himself vigorously to playing the 
game, hoping that by the next day the fellows 
would cool down and get together. 

But somehow they didn’t. There had been 
time for discussion with the disgruntled Wilks 


73 


THE QUAEEEL 

himself, and if anything, their animosity was in- 
creased. It was so marked, and the etfect so dis- 
astrous, or so it seemed to Tompkins, to the unity 
of the team, that after practice the tenderfoot 
hesitatingly approached Sherman Ward. It was 
not at all easy for him to say what he had in mind. 
For one thing, the idea of even remotely advising 
the captain savored of cheekiness and presump- 
tion ; for another, he was n’t personally at all keen 
to take the step he felt would be for the good of 
the team. But at length he summoned courage to 
make the suggestion. 

‘‘Say, Sherm,” he began haltingly, after walk- 
ing beside Ward for a few moments in silence, 
“don’t you think — that is, would it be better for 
me to — er — not to play to-morrow?” 

Sherman stopped short in surprise. “Not 
play?” he repeated sharply. “Why, what — ” 
He frowned suddenly. “Don’t you want to?” 

^^Want to? Of course I do! But it seems to 
me things would — ^would go smoother if — I was n ’t 
in the line-up. You know some of the fellows — ” 

He paused. Sherman’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, 
that ’s what you mean, is it ? ” For an instant he 
stood staring silently at the freckled face raised 
to his. “You ’d be willing to get out for — for the 
good of the team?” As Dale nodded he reached 
out and caught the boy almost roughly by one 


74 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 


shoulder. ‘ ‘ Forget it ! ^ ’ he said gruffly. ‘ ‘ I know 
what I ’m doing, kid. You go in to-morrow and 
play up for all you ’re worth. If — if those chumps 
don’t come to their senses, it won’t be your fault.” 

His jaw was square; his lips firm. It flashed 
suddenly on Dale that Sherman could n’t very well 
follow his suggestion and continue to preserve a 
shred of authority as captain. It would seem as 
if he were giving in to the delinquents and allow- 
ing them to run the team. They would set him 
down as we'ak and vacillating, and pay less atten- 
tion than ever to his efforts to make them get to- 
gether and play the game right. A sudden anger 
flamed up within the tenderfoot, and his teeth 
clicked together. 

‘‘Chumps!” he growled to himself, his fists 
clenching. “Can’t they see what they ’re doing? 
Can’t they forget themselves for a minute and 
think of the team?” 

He wished the suspense was over and the mo- 
ment for the game at hand. Hitherto the days 
had fairly flown, making the afternoons of much 
needed practice incredibly brief, but now the very 
minutes seemed to drag. Saturday morning was 
interminable. Dale tried to forget his worries by 
attending to the various chores about the house, 
but even in the midst of vigorous woodchopping 
he found himself stopping to think of the struggle 


75 


THE QUARREL 

of the afternoon, going over the different plays 
and sizing up the probable behavior of various in- 
dividuals. 

But at last the waiting was over and he had 
taken his place in that line which spread out across 
the field ready for the signal. And as he crouched 
there, back bent, watching with keen, appraising 
eyes the blue jersies dotting the turf before him, 
the tension relaxed a little, giving place to the 
thrall of the game. 

After all, why should he be so certain of the 
worst? Was n’t it quite as likely that the fellows 
would be awakened and dominated, even stung 
into unity, by the same thrill which moved him? 
An instant later he lunged forward and was run- 
ning swiftly, madly, his face upturned to the yel- 
low sphere soaring above his head and rocking 
gently in its swooping, dropping flight. 

When Ranny Phelps made a perfect catch and 
zigzagged down the field, dodging the interfer- 
ence with consummate skill, the tenderfoot thrilled 
responsive and mentally applauded. When the 
blond chap was at length downed and the teams 
lined up snappily. Dale grinned delightedly to 
himself at the realization of the fine beginning 
they had made. 

But his enthusiasm was short-lived. Parker 
ripped out a signal, and the ball was snapped 


76 


UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


back to Ward. Dale drove forward, bent on clear- 
ing the way for Sherman. Beside him Eanny 
also Innged into the melee, but the tenderfoot was 
instantly conscious of a gap between them that 
seemed as wide as the poles apart. Into it the 
solid blue-jerseyed interference thrust itself, and 
the forward rush stopped as if it had struck a 
stone wall. 

First down!’’ shouted the referee when the 
heap of players disintegrated. ‘‘Ten yards to 
gain!” 


CHAPTER Vn 


IN THE LAST QUAETEE 

A S Dale scrambled to bis feet and sought his 
place again, his face was flaming. He had a 
feeling that he must be partly to blame for the 
failure. Perhaps he had been a bit too quick in 
his forward lunge. As he crouched in the line, 
head low and shoulders bent, his hands clenched 
themselves tightly. It mustn’t happen again, he 
told himself. 

But swiftly it was borne upon him that the 
blame did not lie on his shoulders. A try around 
right end brought them barely a yard. Something 
had gone wrong there, too. He could not tell just 
what it was, but it seemed as if Slater and Tor- 
rance had failed somehow to back up Ted Mac- 
Ilvaine as they should have done. The tackle’s 
teeth grated, and a flood of impotent anger surged 
over him. They were playing as they had played 
in practice, each fellow for himself, without even 
an effort to get together and tighten up. 

With the inevitable kick which gave the ball to 
Troop One, this fact became even more apparent. 
77 


78 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


Solid and compact, the blue line swept down the 
field with a machine-like rush that carried every- 
thing before it. They seemed to find holes every- 
where in the opposing line, and only the handicap 
of a high wind and the brilliant work of three or 
four individuals kept them from scoring in the 
first quarter. 

That such a calamity could be long prevented 
seemed impossible to Dale. He greeted the inter- 
mission with a sigh of thankfulness. Brief as it 
was, it was a respite. Sherman ^s bitter, stinging 
onslaught on the team passed almost unheeded by 
the anxious tackle. He was thinking of the three 
remaining quarters with a foreboding that made 
him oblivious to all else. 

To be sure, when play was resumed, the fellows 
seemed to show a slightly better spirit. It was as 
if the first dim realization of their errors was be- 
ing forced upon them. But they had been split 
apart so long that they seemed to have forgotten 
how to work together in that close-knit, united 
manner which alone could make any head against 
these particular opponents. Time and time again 
they were driven back to the very shadow of their 
goal-posts, where, stung by shame or the lashing 
tongue of their captain, they rallied long enough 
to hurl back the attack a little, only to lapse again 
when the pressing, vital need was past. 


79 


IN THE LAST QUAKTEE 

Then, toward the very end of that second quar- 
ter, when Tompkins was just beginning to hope 
again, the thing he had dreaded came suddenly 
and unexpectedly. Some one blundered, whether 
Slater, or Torrance, or Ted Macllvaine, the boy 
did not know. With a last swift rush the blue- 
clad interference charged at the right wing, 
through it, over it, and, hurling aside all opposi- 
tion, swept resistlessly over the last six yards for 
a touch-down. They missed the goal by a hair, 
but that did not lessen the sense of shock and 
sharp dismay which quivered through the line of 
their opponents. 

Dale Tompkins took his place after the long 
intermission, a dull, bitter, impotent anger con- 
suming him. He was furious with the fellows 
who by their incredible stupidity were practically 
throwing away the game. He even hated himself 
for seeming to accomplish so little; but most of 
all he raged at the blond chap next to him. Some 
of the others were at least trying to get together, 
though their lack of practice made the effort al- 
most negligible. But Eanny Phelps remained as 
coldly aloof, as markedly determined to withhold 
support and play his game alone as he had been 
in the beginning. 

It made a hole in the line which could not es- 
cape the attention of the opposing quarter-back. 


80 


UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 


Already he had sent his formation through it 
more than once, but now he seemed to concentrate 
the attack on that weak spot. Time and time 
again Dale flung himself to meet the rush, only to 
be overwhelmed and hurled back by sheer num- 
bers. Sometimes Sanson pulled him out of the 
scrimmage, more often he scrambled up unaided 
to find his place, sweat-blinded and with breath 
coming in gasps, and brace himself for the next 
onset. 

Silently, doggedly, he took his punishment, and 
presently, under the strain, he began to lose track 
of the broader features of the game. Vaguely he 
realized that they had been forced back again and 
again almost against their own goal-posts, and 
there had rallied, tearing formations to shreds 
and hurling back the enemy with the strength of 
despair. Dimly he heard the voice of Ward, or 
Court Parker ^s shriller notes, urging them in 
sharp, broken phrases to get together. But the 
real, the dominating thing was that forward 
plunge, the tensing of muscles, the crash of 
meeting bodies, the heaving, straining struggle, 
the slow, heartrending process of being crushed 
back by overwhelming weight — that and the sense 
of emptiness upon his left. 

Then came a time when things went black for 
an instant before his eyes. He did not quite lose 


81 


IN THE LAST QUARTER 

consciousness, for he knew when the weight above 
was lifted and two arms slid around him, dragging 
him to his feet. It was Sanson, he thought hazily 
— good old Frank! Then he turned his head a 
little and through the wavering mists looked 
straight into the eyes of Ranny Phelps I 

Wide, dilated, almost black with strain and ex- 
citement, they stared at him from out the grimy 
face with a strange mingling of shame and ad- 
miration that sent a thrill through the tenderfoot 
and made him pull himself together. 

‘‘Take it easy,’’ came in grutf, unnatural ac- 
cents. “You want to get your wind — old fellow.” 

“I — I ’m all right,” muttered the tenderfoot. 

He passed one hand vaguely across his fore- 
head. Some one brought a tin dipper, from which 
he rinsed his mouth mechanically. His head was 
clearing, but he couldn’t seem to understand 
whether the transformation in the chap beside 
him was real or only a creation of his bewildered 
brain. But when he took his place again and 
dropped his shoulders instinctively, another shoul- 
der pressed against him on the left, and that same 
hoarse, unfamiliar voice sounded in his ears : 

“Together now, kid; we ’ll stop ’em this time!” 

The words seemed to give Dale a new strength. 
Stirred to the very fiber of his being, he dived 
forward to meet the onward rush. Still with that 


'82 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


new, stimulating sense of support where none had 
been before, his outstretched hands gripped like 
tentacles around sturdy legs. There was a heav- 
ing, churning motion; then the compact mass of 
players toppled over, and he knew that they had 
succeeded. 

Nor was it a solitary advantage. Unobserved 
by Tompkins, the whole line had been slowly stitf- 
ening. Slowly, gradually, the other holes had 
been closed up and the advance checked. When 
the kick put the ball in their possession, a new 
spirit animated Troop Five. Scattered no longer, 
but welded by stern necessity into a single unit, 
they forgot their handicap, forgot that the min- 
utes of the final quarter were speeding in mad 
flight, forgot everything but the vital need of 
breaking through that line of blue and carrying 
the fight toward those distant goal-posts that 
loomed so far away. 

Forming up swiftly, they swept forward for a 
gain of eight yards. Before the opposition recov- 
ered from their surprise, they had passed the 
fifty-yard line. 

Here the blues rallied, and for a space the two 
lines surged back and forth in the middle of the 
field. It was a period of small gains and fre- 
quent punts, when neither side held the ball long, 
nor the advantage. Thrilled by their success, ex- 


83 


IN THE LAST QUAETER 

hilarated by that strange new sense of comrade- 
ship with the boy beside him, Dale fought fiercely, 
heedless of the shock of bodies, of pain, of weari- 
ness, of blinding sweat, or hard-won breath. His 
only worry was a growing fear that they would 
not have time to score, aud this had only just 
begun to dominate him when the unexpected hap- 
pened. 

They were battling on the enemy’s forty-yard 
line. It was Troop One’s ball, and they had tried 
to force a gain through center. Shoulder to 
shoulder, Eanny and Dale plunged forward to 
meet the rush. The advance checked, Tompkins 
gained his feet swiftly and thrilled to see the 
precious ball rolling free not a dozen feet 
away. 

With a gasp he lunged for it and scooped it up 
without slackening speed. At almost the same 
instant Eanny Phelps shot out of the scrimmage 
as if propelled from a catapult, and a moment 
later the two were thudding down the field, a 
stream of players trailing in their wake. 

Dale caught his breath with the stinging real- 
ization that their chance had come — their only 
chance! There were but two men between them 
and the coveted goal, the full-back, and nearer, 
another player bearing swiftly down on them, 
who must instantly be reckoned with. That would 


84 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

be Ranny’s task. He must stop the fellow, while 
Dale took his chance alone with the other. 

Dale glanced sidewise at his companion, and his 
heart leaped into his throat. Phelps was limp- 
ing ; something had happened to him in that last 
scrimmage. His face showed white even through 
the grime and tan ; his under lip was flecked with 
crimson. 

‘‘Ranny!’^ gasped Dale, in a panic. ‘^What — 
Can you — ’’ 

^ ‘ Don ’t — worry — about — me, ’ ’ came indistinctly 
through the other’s clenched teeth. ’ll — ^block 

• — this fellow — somehow. You get the other — 
you ’ve got to!” 

Taking a fresh grip on the ball. Dale spurted 
on. He was aware that Ranny had sheered off a 
little to the right, and knew that he meant to stop 
the boy racing up from that direction. But ac- 
tually he saw nothing, and even the crash of meet- 
ing bodies came to him as something far away and 
unimportant. His clearing brain was fixed on 
the looming figure ahead, the full-back, who alone 
stood between him and victory. 

He must be passed — ^but how? A thought of 
hurdling flashed into his mind, to be dismissed as 
too hazardous. There was only one way left. 
Without slackening speed, he tore on, his heart 
thumping like a trip-hammer. To the breathless 


85 


IN THE LAST QUARTER 

onlookers it seemed as if he meant actually to run 
down the opposing player. Then, in a flash, when 
he was almost within reach of the hooking arms, 
he swerved suddenly to one side, whirled, darted 
the other way, eluded the other ’s frantic clutch by 
the merest hair, and with a sob of joy ran on, 
free, the ball still cupped in the curve of his arm. 


CHAPTEB VIII 


THE GOOD TURN 

T en minutes later the small building on the 
edge of the field was thronged with joyous, 
excited boys in various stages of undress, who 
celebrated the victory with shrill jubilations, 
snatches of song, or exuberant outbursts of mere 
noise. The strain and tension of the afternoon 
were forgotten ; nobody remembered the nearness 
of defeat in the recollection of that last splendid 
rally which had brought them all so much closer 
together. 

On every hand fellows were comparing notes 
and talking over details of the struggle in eager 
fragments. ‘ ‘ Eemember the time — ’ ^ ‘ ‘ Say, how 
about that gain through center when Ted — ’’ 
‘ ‘ Some run, was n T it T ’ 

‘‘Oh, you Tommy!’’ shrilled Court Parker, 
catching Dale’s eye. “Awful punk run that was 
— simply awful!” 

Tompkins smiled back at him, but did not speak. 
He was luxuriating in the restful peace which 
comes after strenuous physical action and the con- 
86 


THE GOOD TURN 


87 


sciousness of successful accomplisliment. A feel- 
ing of intense pride in the troop filled him. 

‘ ‘ They ^re a corking lot of fellows — corking ! ’ ’ he 
said more than once under his breath as he looked 
around the room with shining eyes. ‘‘How they 
did get after that hunch in the last quarter ! I — 
I wouldn’t belong to any other troop for — for 
anything!” 

Now and then, to be sure, his eyes strayed to the 
farther end of the room, where Ranny Phelps 
was having his swollen ankle bandaged by two of 
the most skilful exponents of first aid, and a faint 
touch of questioning crept into them. Since that 
breathless moment on the field when Ranny ’s ef- 
forts had left the way free for Dale, he had not 
spoken to the tenderfoot nor by so much as a 
glance recognized his existence. Dale wondered 
whether his mind was merely taken up with his in- 
jury, or whether the change that had come over 
him in the heat of the game had been only a 
temporary thawing. 

As the days passed, the latter suspicion became 
a certainty. At their very first meeting, in fact, 
the tenderfoot found Ranny as aloof as ever. To 
be sure. Dale noticed that he no longer seemed to 
try to impress his attitude on the others in his 
patrol. Apparently without rebuke, stout Harry 
Vedder became quite friendly, and even Rex 


88 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


Slater and one or two others in the clique treated 
him with a good deal more consideration than 
they had before the game. But the leader himself 
made no effort to disguise his coolness toward the 
new-comer, and Dale presently found it hard to 
believe that the helping hand, the friendly voice, 
the touch of that muscular shoulder as they fought 
side by side on the field in the furious struggle 
against odds had been real. 

He did not brood over it, because he was not 
of the brooding sort. More than once he found 
himself regretting that impulsive action which 
had so increased the other boy’s antagonism, but 
for the most part he contented himself with the 
unqualified friendship of most of the troop, and 
entered with zest into the various scout activities. 

Perhaps the most interesting of these were the 
long hikes and week-end camping-trips. Mr. Cur- 
tis was a great advocate of the latter, and as soon 
as the end of football made Saturdays free again, 
he announced his intention of undertaking them 
as often as the weather permitted. 

Unfortunately, there were not many sites 
around Hillsgrove which combined the ideal quali- 
fications for a camp — good drainage, wood, and 
water. The latter was particularly scarce. There 
were one or two brooks — small, miserable affairs 
with only a foot or two of depth, and a muddy, 


THE GOOD TURN 


89 


half-stagnant mill-pond or so ; but the single body 
of water which would have been perfect for the 
purpose was definitely and permanently barred to 
them. 

It was a small lake, half a mile long and vary- 
ing from two to four hundred feet in width, that 
lay some four miles out of town. There was. a 
good bottom, depth in plenty even for diving, and 
the banks on one side, at least, sloped back 
sharply and were covered with a fine growth of 
pine and hemlock, interspersed with white birch 
and a good deal of hard wood. The boys had 
often looked on it with longing eyes, but the owner 
was a sour-faced, crotchety old man who was en- 
raged by the mere sight of a boy on his property. 
He had placarded his woods with warning signs, 
kept several dogs, and was even reputed to have 
a gun loaded with bird-shot ready for instant 
use on youthful trespassers. 

Perhaps the latter was a slight exaggeration;, 
certainly no one had ever been actually peppered 
with it. But the fact remained that old Caleb 
Grimstone, who lived alone and had a well-estab- 
lished reputation for crankiness, had stubbornly 
refused all requests to be allowed to camp or pic- 
nic on his property even when pay was offered, 
and at length all such effort had been abandoned. 
As Court Parker remarked, no doubt with a vivid 


90 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


recollection of sundry narrow escapes: ‘‘You 
can steal a swim on the old codger if you keep a 
weather-eye peeled and don’t mind doing a Mar- 
athon through the brush; but when it comes to 
anything like pitching a tent and settling down — 
good night!” 

Under such circumstances, it may be imagined 
that the announcement made one morning to the 
group gathered about the school entrance that old 
Grimstone had fallen through the hay-shoot and 
broken an arm did not elicit any marked expres- 
sions of regret. 

“Serves him right, the old skinflint, after the 
mean way he ’s kept us away from the lake!” 
growled Bob Gibson. 

“Yes, indeed!” snitfed Harry Vedder. “He ’s 
a regular dog in the manger. It wouldn’t hurt 
him to let us swim there in the summer, or camp 
once in a while. He does n’t use it himself.” 

“Use it!” exclaimed Frank Sanson. “Why, 
they don’t even cut ice off it.” 

“He ’s just downright mean, that ’s all!” put in 
Rex Slater. “Say, fellows, what a chance this 
would be to get ahead of the old chap and camp 
out Friday or Saturday — if Mr. Curtis would only 
let us.” 

“He won’t,” said Sherman Ward, decidedly. 
“Besides, it ’s a lot too cold and looks like snow. 


THE GOOD TURN 


91 


How did lie manage, Ted! Living alone with 
only those dogs, it must have been some stunt to 
get word to anybody. ’ ^ 

‘^He got out to the road and waited for the first 
team that came along,’’ explained Ted. “The 
people took him into the house, and then sent Dr. 
Maxwell out from town. He wanted somebody 
to come and look after him, but old Grimey 
wouldn’t hear of it. Said he couldn’t stand the 
expense.” 

“The old miser! How does he manage to get 
his meals and look after the stock!” 

“Eats bread and milk and canned stuff, I guess. 
Bud Hinckley comes in night and morning, I un- 
derstand, to look after the horse and cow and 
wash dishes and all that, but you know what 
Bud is.” 

“So lazy he ’d like somebody else to draw his 
breath for him!” said Court Parker, promptly. 
“Whew! What a lovely time the old man must 
be having — and to-morrow Thanksgiving ! ’ ’ 

As they trooped into school, the last words lin- 
gered in Dale Tompkins’s mind. To-morrow 
would, indeed, be Thanksgiving — ^the day of tur- 
key, and mince-pie, and good cheer generally. He 
had no more cause than the others for sympathiz- 
ing with Caleb Grimstone, but somehow the mental 
picture of the soured old man sitting alone in his 


92 


UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


slovenly kitchen, one arm in a sling, and eating 
bread and milk, with perhaps a can of lukewarm 
tomatoes or corn, when every one else was feast- 
ing merrily in company, made him vaguely un- 
comfortable. 

He forgot it, however, in the excitement of a 
brisk game of land-hockey up at Sherman’s that 
afternoon, but after supper the picture returned 
with renewed vividness, and with it something the 
scoutmaster had said when he passed his second- 
class examinations a few days ago. 

‘‘Never forget the daily good turn. Dale, or let 
it slump into a perfunctory sort of thing such as 
you would have to do anyway whether you were 
a scout or not. A fellow can’t always find big 
things, of course ; but when the opportunity comes, 
he is n’t a true scout if he cannot sacrifice his own 
comfort or pleasure or inclination to bring help or 
happiness to some one who really needs it. ’ ’ 

Dale squirmed a little at the recollection and 
tried to go on with the book he was reading. But 
the tale had lost its savor, and presently he raised 
his eyes from the printed page and frowned. 

“Nobody else thought anything about it!” he 
muttered rebelliously. “Besides, to-morrow ’s 
Thanksgiving; that ’s different from any other 
day. ’ ’ 

A little later he put away the book, said good 


THE GOOD THEN 


93 


night, and went up to his room. Having closed 
the door, he opened his closet and took out his 
scout suit. It had come only the day before ; al- 
ready he had looked at it more than twenty times, 
but the novelty had not yet worn otf. He won- 
dered if fellows who had theirs merely for the 
asking felt half as proud of it as he, who had 
worked for every penny of its cost. He passed 
one hand caressingly over the smooth olive khaki, 
and then an odd thought popped suddenly into his 
head. 

He had tried it on, twice, but as yet he had not 
actually worn it. Might n’t it mean even more to 
him if he wore it first in the performance of a 
good turn that really counted 1 

Though the boy felt it only vaguely, and for- 
mulated it not at all even in his mind, it was 
something of that spirit of consecration that of 
old dominated the young candidates for knight- 
hood, guarding their armor through the long 
night-watches. Dale’s face took on an expression 
of determination, and as he put away his things 
his mind was oddly lightened. 

Next morning he sallied forth, a trifle self-con- 
scious in all the glory of his new khaki, but 
warmed by the look in his mother’s eyes as she 
waved good-by from the door-step. Taking the 
shortest cut, he proceeded to the rectory, and when 


94 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


Mr. Schofield appeared he saluted punctili- 
ously. 

‘ ‘ May I have one of the baskets, sir ? ^ ^ he asked. 

The rector smiled. ‘‘Ah! You ^re going to 
take it to — ’’ He paused questioningly an in- 
stant; then his smile deepened. “Certainly,’^ he 
said cordially. “They ’re over in the parish- 
house. The ladies are packing them now. Tell 
Mrs. Mason I said you were to have a good one.” 

Ten minutes later Dale was making his way 
briskly toward the Beldon Turnpike, a large mar- 
ket-basket on one arm. The legs of a plump fowl 
protruded from the covering; there were vege- 
tables within, a can of soup, celery, oranges, 
bananas, and a small pie. The weight was not a 
light one, but Dale whistled cheerfully as he strode 
along. 

He reached the turnpike without meeting any 
of the fellows, and after ten or fifteen minutes’ 
tramping along the straight, level road he paused 
to shift the basket to the other arm. It was heav- 
ier than he thought. Overhead the gray sky was 
a bit dispiriting, and the sharp, chill wind, blow- 
ing across the open fields, made him glad he had 
buttoned his sweater beneath the khaki coat. 

Presently he began to speculate on what sort of 
reception he would have, and for the first time 
the possibility occurred to him that his welcome 


THE GOOD THEN 


95 


might not be altogether cordial. You never could 
tell what point of view the cranky old man would 
take. He thought of the dogs, too, especially af- 
ter he had left the main road and turned into the 
less frequented one leading past Grimstone’s 
place. More than once people had been chased 
by them, and it wasnT exactly pleasant to pic- 
ture them rushing out at him in a body the mo- 
ment he set foot in the lane. 

Nevertheless, it did not occur to him to turn 
back. He had set out with a definite purpose, and 
he meant to carry it through. To be sure, just 
before reaching the lane he cut himself a stout 
stick, and as the old, weather-beaten frame house 
came in sight he unconsciously made his approach 
as noiseless as possible. He was surprised and 
not a little relieved to see no signs of the animals, 
but when he set down his basket and knocked 
briskly on the back door, the snarling uproar that 
instantly arose inside plainly advertised their 
whereabouts. 

Dale tightened his grip on the stick and strained 
his ears for other sounds. He had raised his hand 
for a second knock when the barking suddenly 
lessened a little, and above the racket came a 
growling admonition in Grimstone’s harsh tones: 

‘‘Wal, come in, can’t you^ Are you deaf I” 


CHAPTER IX 


AN ODD THANKSGIVING 

T he note of ill temper in the voice was so 
apparent that Dale hesitated for a second 
longer. Then, with a determined movement of 
his head, he set his stick against the door-casing, 
picked up the basket, and stepped into the kitchen. 
It was a long, low room, the walls and ceiling 
painted a dirty gray. Two of the three windows 
were tightly shuttered, so that Dale could barely 
make out the bent figure seated in a rocking-chair 
beside a rusty, decrepit cook-stove. At his en- 
trance the three dogs began to hark again, hut old 
Grimstone silenced them with a fierce gesture that 
sent them cowering under a table. 

‘‘What d’ you want?’’ he demanded, glaring at 
the hoy from under bushy brows. “I don’t want 
to buy nothin’, so you ’d better git out.” 

“I haven’t anything — for sale,” returned the 
hoy, finding it a little difficult to explain his er- 
rand. “It — it ’s your Thanksgiving dinner.” 
“Dinner!” snapped the old man. “What are 
96 


AN ODD THANKSGIVING 97 

you talkin’ about? I ain’t ordered nothin’ from 
town. ’ ’ 

‘‘I know you have n’t. It ’s one of the baskets 
from the church. I — I heard you ’d had an acci- 
dent and were all alone, so I — I thought I ’d bring 
it out. ’ ’ 

For a moment the old man sat silent, his hard, 
glinting eyes, full of sour suspicion, fixed on the 
boy’s face. ‘‘What for?” he demanded suddenly. 

“What for?” repeated Dale, puzzled. 

“Yes; what for? What d’ you expect to git 
out of it? You ain’t toted a basketful o’ truck all 
the way out here jest out of regard for me, I 
reckon. Who sent ye?” 

Dale flushed, and unconsciously drew himself 
up a little. “Nobody,” he returned briefly. 
“I ’m a boy scout. We — ^we try to do a good turn 
for somebody every day.” 

Old Grimstone bent slightly forward, staring in 
a puzzled fashion at the trim, khaki-clad figure 
before him. His right arm, bulky with bandages 
and splints, was strapped tightly to his body; the 
other hand, gnarled and brown, with blue veins 
showing here and there, gripped the arm of the 
rocker. There was suspicion still in his glance, 
but back of it was the look of one groping dimly 
for something he could not understand. Sud- 
denly he straightened with a jerk. 


98 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


‘‘Wal, set it down somewheres, then!’’ he 
growled ungraciously. ‘‘I ain’t an object o’ 
charity yet, but if you ’re bound to leave it, I 
s’pose I can use it somehow. You ’d better be 
startin’ back right away or you ’ll miss your din- 
ner.” 

Dale placed the basket on a table and com- 
menced to remove the paper. ’m not going 
back yet,” he explained cheerfully. ’m going 
to stay and cook it for you.” 

For a moment there was silence. Then the old 
man grunted inarticulately; it might have been 
with surprise, or incredulity, or almost any other 
emotion. Dale ’s back was toward him, so he could 
not tell, but since there was no actual prohibition, 
he proceeded with the unpacking. 

Somehow he was beginning to enter more into 
the spirit of the thing, beginning to feel an in- 
terest, almost an enjoyment, in doing it up thor- 
oughly. Having taken off coat and sweater, his 
first act was to prepare the chicken for roasting. 
When it was safely placed in the oven he shook 
down the fire, added some more wood, and then 
turned his attention to a pile of unwashed dishes, 
which the indolent Hinckley was evidently accu- 
mulating until he considered it sizeable enough to 
be worth tackling. It was a task the boy ordinar- 
ily hated, but he meant to leave the room spick 


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AN ODD THANKSGIVING 


101 


and span on his departure. So he rolled up his 
shirt-sleeves and plunged in, whistling softly as he 
worked. 

Old Caleb Grimstone followed the boy’s move- 
ments almost in silence. He had gruffly told him 
where he could find a pan for the chicken, and 
once he snapped out at one of the dogs who had 
come forth from under the table and was sniffing 
at Dale’s legs. But for the most part he sat mo- 
tionless beside the stove, his eyes, under their 
beetling brows, fixed intently on the busy figure 
with that same puzzled questioning in their 
depths. 

At last, when Dale had pared the potatoes and 
put them on to boil, he suddenly growled, ‘^Are 
you one of them boys that come sneakin’ around 
the lake last summer ? ’ ’ 

Dale reddened a little, but did not hesitate. ‘ ‘ I 
was out here two or three times, I guess,” he 
acknowledged. 

The old man sniffed. s’pose you call that 
one o’ them ^good turns’ — trespassin’ on a per- 
son’s property, an’ payin’ no attention to signs, 
an’ all,” he remarked. 

“I wasn’t a scout then,” said Dale. He got a 
broom from the corner, and on his way past the 
old man’s chair he paused, his eyes twinkling a 
bit. ‘‘Anyhow, on a roasting hot day you know a 


102 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


fellow ’ll do ’most anytliing to get a swim. I ex- 
pect you were that way yourself, Mr. Grimstone, 
when you were a boy.” 

‘‘Huh!” grunted the old man, disagreeably, but 
he made no further comment. 

Once or twice, as he swept. Dale glanced curi- 
ously at the silent figure by the stove and won- 
dered what the old fellow was thinking about. His 
eyes no longer followed the boy with sharp sus- 
picion. His head was bent a little, and he stared 
blankly, unseeingly, at a knot in the board at his 
feet. For a long time he did not stir, save once 
to lift the thin, veined hand from the chair-arm, 
only to grip it again with a force that made the 
knuckles stand out white against the brown skin. 
At length, with a sigh, checked almost in its birth, 
he raised his head and frowned at Tompkins. 

“Ain’t you goin’ to baste that fowl at all?” he 
inquired sharply. 

Dale started guiltily at the reminder and 
hastened to the oven. The fowl was browning 
nicely, and as he spooned up the sizzling juices, 
he hoped his forgetfulness wasn’t going to make 
any difference in its flavor. 

Apparently it hadn’t. After a number of anx- 
ious inspections, between which he set the table 
for two, put plates to heat, and arranged the re- 
maining contents of the basket as temptingly as 


AN ODD THANKSGIVING 


103 


he could, he decided that the chicken was done, 
and Mr. Grimstone, peering doubtfully into the 
oven and even testing the fowl with a fork, grudg- 
ingly agreed. When the old man was served and 
his portion cut up so that he could manage it with 
a fork. Dale took his first taste with a little feeling 
of pride in his culinary achievement. 

It was really a very appetizing meal, and the 
scout enjoyed it as only a healthy, hungry hoy can. 
Mr. Grimstone made no comment one way or an- 
other. Once or twice he mumbled his annoyance 
at having to have his meat cut up for him by a 
boy, but the number of times that the process 
was repeated and the relish with which he con- 
sumed everything in sight was proof enough of his 
satisfaction in the unwonted fare. 

As the curious meal proceeded to its conclusion 
he seemed almost to thaw a little. His manner 
was still crabbed and his voice sharp. He scowled 
a good deal, too, especially after some comment 
which might possibly be taken as approaching the 
amiable. But in one way or another, both at table 
and later while the dishes were being done up, he 
asked a good many questions in his short, snappy 
fashion. 

Dale answered them readily, vaguely sensing, 
perhaps, that under the old man^s surface crusti- 
ness lay a certain awkwardness at handling so un- 


104 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


accustomed a situation. After all these years of 
bitter warfare against boys it must be rather em- 
barrassing, he thought, to treat one of them with 
even an approach to civility. So when he had 
told his name, and the troop he belonged to, send 
one or two other details the old man asked about. 
Dale went on to explain a little about their scout 
work and play, their weekly meetings and drill 
and other duties, their hikes and week-end camp- 
ing-trips. 

The old man listened almost without comment. 
He seemed more curious about the principle of 
the daily good turn, to which he reverted several 
times, always with expressions of doubt and 
skepticism. The idea of mere boys giving time 
and labor and sacrificing inclination and pleasure 
without thought of reward was incredible to 
him. 

‘‘It ain’t natural!” he declared at last. 
“Mebbe one or two might, but not many. You 
can’t tell me any other o’ them young limbs in 
town would of give up their holiday to tote a bas- 
ket o’ truck out here an’ cook it.” 

“Oh, yes, they would!” protested the boy, 
loyally, “if they ’d thought of it.” 

“Humph!” grunted the old man. “They 
didn’t happen to, though.” 

“One was enough, wasn’t it!” smiled the boy. 


AN ODD THANKSGIVING 105 

^‘You would nT have known what to do with two 
baskets. 

The old man snorted doubtfully and did not 
pursue the subject farther. A little later, Dale 
discovered, to his surprise, that it was after four. 
He had no idea the time had flown so. He would 
have to hustle to get back to town before dark. 
Fortunately, the kitchen was cleared up, so after 
stoking the fire he got into his sweater and coat. 
Then he picked up the wide-brimmed felt hat and 
carefully rearranged the depressions in its crown. 

‘‘Good-by, Mr. Grimstone,’’ he said, glancing 
over to where the latter had resumed his place by 
the stove. “I hope your arm won’t be long com- 
ing around.” 

The old man frowned at him from under the 
bushy brows. His head was a little bent, and the 
long, bony fingers curved over the chair-arm. It 
was precisely the attitude with which he had 
greeted the boy’s arrival; yet the latter was con- 
scious of a subtle, intangible difference, felt 
rather than perceived. 

“Good-by,” he answered curtly. That was all 
until Dale reached the door and was turning the 
knob. Then, ‘ ‘ Much obleeged, ’ ’ came jerkily from 
the thin, straight lips. 

“You need n’t be,” smiled the scout. “I — I ’ve 
had a very good time.” 


106 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 


It was not exactly the polite fiction that per- 
haps it seemed. That was the odd part of it. As 
he went briskly down the lane the boy realized 
with surprise that not once had he thought regret- 
fully of the rare turkey-dinner at home, or the 
fun with the fellows he had missed that after- 
noon. One of the dogs, still licking his chops 
from the dish of scraps that Dale had given them 
in the shed, trotted after him, and the boy bent to 
pat his head without a touch of nervousness. 

‘‘Your hark ’s a lot worse than your bite, old 
fellow, he said aloud. 

He straightened up and glanced back at the 
rambling, weather-beaten house, whose roof lines 
seemed to merge into the cold gray of the sky, and 
something deeper than pity stirred him at the 
thought of the old man sitting alone there in the 
twilight. 

“I shouldn’t wonder if he was a good deal like 
his dogs,” he murmured as he turned away. 
“I ’m sort of glad — I found it out.” 

It was quite dark before Dale reached home. 
The return trip had been much harder to make 
than the one that morning. The holiday was over 
and there was no spirit of adventure to buoy him 
up, no consciousness that he was going to be of 
use to some one who needed him. Also, there 


AN ODD THANKSGIVING 


107 


was plenty of time to think of the good cheer he 
had missed at home — that family feast to which, 
as long as he could remember, they had sat down 
at three o’clock on Thanksgiving afternoon. It 
had become so fixed and seemingly immovable 
that Dale had not even considered the possibility 
of changing it. And so it was with a tired and 
lagging step that he walked up from the gate and 
opened the front door. 

Inside, he paused suddenly and snitfed. For an 
instant he stood stock-still, eyes wide, mouth half 
open. Then, with a sudden, incoherent exclama- 
tion, he tore down the hall, past the lighted din- 
ing-room, and through the open kitchen door. 
The room was warm and bright, and filled with 
the delicious odor of roasting turkey. 

^‘Mother!” he cried, his face shining. ^‘You 
did n ’t have it — Y ou — ^you — ^waited ! ’ ’ 

His mother straightened from closing the oven 
door and smiled at him — that wonderful, inde- 
scribable smile that somehow belongs to mothers. 

‘‘Of course I waited!” she said quietly. Then, 
as he leaped forward and clutched her in a bear- 
hug, she laughed softly and asked, just a little 
tremulously, “Didn’t you think Father and I 
could do a good turn, too?” 


CHAPTEE X 


THE SUEPEISE 

T hebe was no school on the Friday after 
Thanksgiving, and as soon as Dale had fin- 
ished his chores he sallied forth to hunt up some 
of the fellows. A light snow had fallen during the 
night, but the day was clear and bright and just 
the sort for a good active game or a brisk hike. 
As he skirted the north side of the green a shrill 
yodeling from behind brought the scout around to 
see Court Parker bearing down upon him, calling 
out: 

‘‘Say, where were you yesterday, anyhow! I 
did nT see you all day. ^ ’ 

“I was — ^busy,’’ returned Dale, briefly. 

“Busy stuffing yourself, I s’pose. Well, you 
missed a dandy game up at Sherm’s. We ’re go- 
ing to have another this afternoon.” 

“Won’t the snow — Say I Why couldn’t we 
play ‘Smugglers over the Border,’ or something 
like that! It ’s just the day for it.” 

Court’s glance swept comprehensively over the 
snow-covered green and his eyes brightened. “I 
108 


THE SUEPEISE 


109 


hadn’t thought of that. Now and then you do 
manage to hit the little black circle, Tommy. 
Let ’s hunt up the bunch and see what they say,” 

The crowd was presently gathered from sev- 
eral different parts of town, and the majority ap- 
proved of Dale’s suggestion. Eanny Phelps and 
several of his clique had other plans for the after- 
noon, but Eanny had a habit of frequently failing 
to take part in the troop doings, unless these were 
official and gave him a chance to appear in uni- 
form, girded with authority, so his absence was 
not unexpected. 

Immediately after lunch the others betook 
themselves a mile outside of town, sides were 
chosen, and the ‘‘border” laid out. This con- 
sisted of about four hundred yards of a little-used 
road where the snow had not been much disturbed. 
This was patrolled by a portion of the “custom 
inspectors,” with a reserve posted farther inland. 
About half a mile hack from the road a deserted 
barn did duty for the “town.” 

The smugglers gathered about half a mile on 
the other side of the border and were allowed to 
cross it in any formation, singly, together, or 
scattered, and make for the town at any speed 
they chose. One only of their number was sup- 
posed to be smuggling, and he was equipped with 
tracking-irons. The moment a sentry patrolling 


110 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


the border caught sight of these tracks, his duty 
was to signal the fact to the reserve party of in- 
spectors and at once follow the track himself. 
The reserves cooperated with him, trying by any 
means to catch the smuggler before he could reach 
the town. If they succeeded, the game was theirs ; 
but if the smuggler eluded them and reached the 
barn safely, victory went to the other side. 

It was a typical scout sport, and for three hours 
or more the fellows played it strenuously, varying 
it toward the end with one or two other stalking 
games. These all met with unanimous approval, 
even Bob Gibson, the habitual grumbler, admitting 
that it was more fun than he thought it would 
be. 

‘‘We ’ll have to try some more of those in the 
book,” Ward remarked as they tramped back 
through the twilight. “That deer-hunt one 
sounds pretty good, if you fellows will only make 
bows and arrows enough. I vote we fix up a deer 
and go to it next Saturday. ’ ’ 

It happened, however, that the following Sat- 
urday was devoted to something even more inter- 
esting than deer-hunting. As Dale entered the 
parish-house on Monday evening he passed Mr. 
Curtis, just inside the door, talking earnestly with 
Wesley Becker. 

“It was a big surprise to me, I can tell you,” 


THE SURPRISE 


111 


he heard the scoutmaster say. canT imagine 
what has brought about the transformation.’’ 

‘‘He does n’t say, I supposed” asked Becker. 

“No; it ’s just the curt invitation. He ’s 
hedged it about with all sorts of prohibitions, but 
still it ’s wonderful he should have come around 
at all. ’ ’ 

“It ’ll be corking for the troop!” exclaimed 
Becker, enthusiastically. “That ’s the one thing 
we ’ve lacked, and if — ” 

At that point Tompkins passed beyond the 
range of their voices, but he had heard enough to 
rouse his curiosity. Fortunately this did not have 
to remain long unsatisfied. After the opening 
exercises the scoutmaster faced the three patrols, 
a small sheet of paper in one hand. 

“Attention, scouts!” he said crisply. “The 
troop will be much pleased to learn, I ’m sure, 
that Mr. Grimstone has given us permission to 
use the north side of his lake for camping pur- 
poses.” 

For an instant there was amazed silence. Then 
a bedlam of surprised comment arose, mingled 
with a torrent of eager questions, which Mr. Cur- 
tis did not attempt to quell. 

“Well, what do you know about that!” “Hur- 
rah for old Grimey!” “Can we skate there, Mr. 
Curtis?” “Will he let us swim in the summer?” 


112 UNDER BOYi SCOUT COLORS 


^ ‘ Can we go out this Saturday U ’ ‘ ^ How did you 
work it, sir?’^ 

‘ ‘ One at a time, ’ ’ smiled the scoutmaster. ‘ H ’ll 
answer the last one first. I didn’t ‘work it,’ as 
you so pithily express it, Vedder, at all. I ’ve 
failed several times to get this privilege from Mr. 
Grimstone, and his letter this morning was as 
much of a surprise to me as to any one. He 
does n’t state the reason for his change of mind.” 

A shock of sharp surprise sent the blood tin- 
gling into Dale Tompkins ’s face and clenched his 
hands spasmodically. ‘ ‘ Gee ! ” he muttered under 
his breath. “I wonder — Why, it must be! 
But I never thought of that — not for a minute!” 
He paused an instant, his gaze growing introspect- 
ive. “He certainly is one good old scout,” he 
murmured to himself. “I said his bark was a lot 
worse than his bite.” 

Then he realized that Mr. Curtis was speaking. 

“We ’re not to go beyond the dam at one end 
of the lake or the inlet at the other. In other 
words, there must be no trespassing on the side 
of the water where the buildings and orchard 
stand. He does n ’t wish any timber cut, and there 
are several other minor prohibitions. He says 
nothing against swimming or skating, so I imagine 
both will be allowed. As for camping there on 
Saturday, I ’m afraid it will be too cold to stay 


THE SUEPKISE 113 

overnigM, but there’s no reason why we should n’t 
hike out in the morning and make a day of it.” 

So it was that the following Saturday morning 
found practically the entire troop hiking briskly 
along the Beldon Turnpike at an early hour. 
Eanny Phelps had complained that there would n’t 
be much fun in just a picnic affair, but he was 
there, nevertheless. The others had no such criti- 
cism to make. They fairly bubbled enthusiasm, 
and in their eagerness to reach the hitherto for- 
bidden spot many of them would have willingly 
gone the entire distance at scout’s pace. 

When they finally left the road and turned off 
into the woods along an overgrown lumber-track, 
it was like exploring an undiscovered country. 
Most of them had been there before, but with a 
difference. When one’s ears must be constantly 
open for the baying of dogs, with the necessity 
ever present of being ready for instant flight, 
there is little chance to appreciate the beauties of 
nature. Now, instead of having to creep along 
through trees and undergrowth, they could boldly 
follow the shore-line, investigate every little cove 
or promontory, discuss possible camping-sites, 
and even make definite plans with the assurance 
that these could be actually carried out in the 
spring. 

At about eleven o’clock they reached the old 


114 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


swimming-place near the head of the lake and 
halted by general consent. Hitherto, they had 
considered the spot solely from the point of view 
of aquatic sport; now they realized that a more 
ideal spot for a camp could scarcely be imagined. 
A small, rocky point thrust its flat nose out into 
the lake. One side was sliced otf as with a knife, 
and here the depth varied from six to eight feet; 
on the other it shelved more gradually. Back of 
it, the level open space, facing south and hedged 
in by a thick shelter of hemlock, would accommo- 
date five or six shelter-tents with ease. Scarcely 
a dozen yards away, a clear spring bubbled into 
a mossy basin. 

In an instant packs were laid aside, and under 
Becker’s direction one party foraged for wood 
while another brought stones for an oven and cut 
saplings for the crane or forked sticks to use in 
broiling meat. Sandwiches and other ready-to- 
eat provisions were not looked upon with favor. 
Every boy wanted something he could cook, and 
the variety of chops, small steaks, eggs, bacon, 
ham, and the like that swiftly appeared was end- 
less. One enterprising scout had even brought a 
can of twist-dough and proceeded deftly to brown 
it on sticks held over the embers. On every hand 
were voiced regrets that they couldn’t have come 
prepared to stay overnight. 


THE SUEPEISE 


115 


don’t believe it would have been too cold, 
with the fire and everything,” said Bennie Ehead, 
after they had finished luncheon and were sitting 
lazily around the blaze for a bit before tackling 
the job of cleaning up. ‘‘Why, it ’s as warm as 
toast now.” 

“Naturally, with the sun pouring in here all 
the morning,” smiled Mr. Curtis. “You ’d find 
it rather different at night. If we all had sleep- 
ing-bags or tents that were really tight, we might 
undertake it. But our sort of equipment isn’t 
meant for winter, and there ’s no use risking 
colds when you ’ll have all the time you want 
next spring and summer. By the way, Sherman, 
did you send that letter to Mr. Grimstone ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, sir. Ted and Eanny and I made it up, 
and all the fellows signed it. I posted it on Wed- 
nesday. ’ ’ 

“That ’s good. I wrote him, myself, but I 
wanted him to see that you fellows, as well, ap- 
preciated what he ’s done.” He rested his head 
against a tree-trunk and glanced appraisingly 
around the glade. “What a place this would be 
for a log-cabin!” he remarked. 

“Immense!” exclaimed Court Parker, sitting 
suddenly upright. ‘ ‘ With a big stone fireplace at 
one end.” 

“And bunks!” added Sanson, enthusiastically. 


116 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

And shelves where we could keep pans and things. 
And — ’’ 

We could camp here any time of the year then, 
couldn’t weT’ 

‘^Sure! And think of coming in when your 
hands and feet are ’most frozen from skating, and 
thawing out before a roaring blaze, and making 
some cocoa, — oh, yum! Do you s’pose there ’s 
any chance, Mr. Curtis, of his letting us — ” Sher- 
man broke otf with a sigh. forgot. He 
doesn’t want any timber cut.” 

‘‘No; and I’d scarcely like to ask him, anyway, 
after he ’s been so decent,” said the scoutmaster. 
“It would look as if we didn’t appreciate what 
he ’s done already.” His glance swept thought- 
fully around the open space again as if he were 
seeing in his mind’s eye the structure that had ex- 
cited such instant enthusiasm. “Of course, it 
would be quite possible to cut enough timber for a 
cabin without in the least hurting the woods; in 
fact a little thinning would do them good.” 

“Wouldn’t it be a corking place to feed the 
birds from in winter!” suddenly spoke up Paul 
Trexler, a silent, reserved sort of chap. “We 
started up three or four covies of quail between 
the road and here.” 

“It certainly would!” The scoutmaster’s tone 
was emphatic. “You ’ve hit the best argument in 


THE SUEPEISE 


117 


its favor yet, Paul. The woods are fairly teem- 
ing with birds of all sorts ; I noticed it as we came 
along. The place has been barred to the public 
for so long that I dare say the wild creatures have 
come to feel more or less safe here. With a cabin 
right on this spot we could keep grain in fairly 
large quantities, and when the heavy snows come, 
it would be easy to establish regular feeding-sta- 
tions at different points, and — 

A sudden yelping made him break off and turn 
quickly, to see a large dog burst from the thicket 
at one side of the glade. With hair bristling and 
teeth bared, the animal pulled up abruptly and 
started a furious barking. 

The scouts leaped up and several snatched 
sticks from the woodpile. An instant later, how- 
ever, the low, sweeping hemlock branches parted, 
and Caleb Grimstone himself stepped into the 
open. With a snarl he silenced the dog and sent 
him groveling to heel. Then he faced Mr. Curtis 
and the boys with an odd, embarrassed defiance 
that made the former suspect his appearance had 
not been intentional, but was rather the result of 
the dog’s outburst. 

‘‘This is mighty nice, Mr. Grimstone!” ex- 
claimed the scoutmaster, advancing with out- 
stretched hand. “You see we haven’t lost any 
time in taking advantage of your kindness.” 


118 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


‘‘Hull!” mumbled the old man. “I was jest 
takin’ a little walk, an’ heard voices — ” 

He paused awkwardly, glowering around the 
circle of wide-eyed boys. 

“I had no idea you were able to walk so far,” 
put in Mr. Curtis, quickly, “or we ’d certainly 
have invited you to eat lunch with us. Won’t you 
let the boys cook you something now? They ’re 
mighty proud of the way they can — ” 

“I ’ve had dinner,” interrupted the old man, 
hastily. He fumbled for a moment with the stout 
cane he carried; then his gaze returned to the 
scoutmaster. “I heard you sayin’ somethin’ 
about feedin’ birds,” he said curtly. “I didn’t 
know you — What was it you meant ? ’ ’ 

Briefly Mr. Curtis explained their methods of 
establishing feeding-stations through the woods 
and caring for them. When he had finished, Mr. 
Grimstone nodded. 

“Humph!” he commented grumpily, “I — I like 
the birds. One o ’ the reasons I would n ’t — ’ ’ He 
paused again and glowered at the boys. ‘^They 
couldn’t make a log-cabin,” he stated positively. 
“It would be too much like real work.” 

A sudden stir went through the group. Mr. 
Curtis smiled. “I should hate to set them at it 
unless I really wanted it done,” he laughed. 
“How ’d they know what trees to cut an’ what 


THE SUKPRISE 119 

to leave? They make a mess o’ the whole 
place. ’ ’ 

‘‘Not with proper supervision,” argued Mr. 
Curtis. 

“Would you look after it?” inquired the old 
man, sharply. 

“Certainly! I ’d gladly constitute myself gen- 
eral foreman.” 

“Humph!” There was a momentary pause, 
tense with suspense. A battery of eyes, eager, 
expectant, pleading, was turned upon the old man, 
whose bent shoulders straightened a bit. “Wal, 
you can go ahead, then,” he agreed crustily. 
“But all I can say is — ” 

A quick exclamation from the scouts drowned 
the remainder of his words. “G — e — e!” came 
hissing from a score of lips in a long sigh of rap- 
ture. It was followed by a bedlam of excited 
chatter. 

“The greatest thing I ever heard!” exploded 
Ted Macllvaine, enthusiastically. “A log-cabin, 
fellows — think of it! A troop cabin!” With 
eyes shining, he stepped suddenly forward and 
faced the crowd. “Three cheers for Mr. Grim- 
stone, fellows!” he cried; “and make ’em good 
ones ! ’ ’ 

When the last echo had died away, a faint touch 
of pink tinged the old man’s leathery brown skin. 


120 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


But his frown abated nothing of its fierceness as 
he turned to the scoutmaster. 

‘^Tut-tut — nonsense!’^ he grumbled. dl leave 
it to you, then ; you dl be responsible, mind ! I 
s’pose you know what trees to take out — or you 
ought to. Nothin’ over eight inches, remember, 
an’ not a scrap o’ rubbish left lyin’ around when 
you ’re done.” 

Without waiting for a reply, he turned abruptly 
and stalked oif, a lean, bent, shabby figure with 
a nose like an eagle’s beak and fiercely beetling 
brows. To the boys staring after him he was an 
angel in disguise. 


CHAPTER XI 


ELKHORN CABIN 



LL that week the members of Troop Five 


JL^ could talk or think of little else save the 
wonderful log-cabin which was to arise like magic 
on the shore of Crystal Lake. That, at least, was 
the way many of them pictured it as going up, but 
at the meeting on Monday night Mr. Curtis gave 
a little talk in which he pointed out that the under- 
taking could only be carried through by a good 
deal of hard, persistent labor, which would un- 
doubtedly grow more or less tiresome before the 
end was reached. 

‘^Saturday is really the only day when we can 
all get together,’’ he said, ‘‘and there won’t be 
many of them before the snow comes to put a 
stop to things. If we mean to enjoy it this win- 
ter, we ’ve got to give every spare minute of our 
time to the work. There can’t be any slowing 
down or backing out. Now, if you ’d rather wait 
till spring, when we can take things more 
easily — ” 

“No, sifV^ came in a swift, united chorus of 


121 


122 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


protest. want to start now. We want to 

have it this winter.’’ 

The scoutmaster smiled a little. ‘‘That ’s the 
way I feel myself,” he said; “so we ’ll consider 
that part settled. We ’ll meet here, then, next 
Saturday morning at half past eight, prepared to 
put in a strenuous day. I ’ll tell the ditferent 
patrol-leaders what tools are needed, and they 
can look them up during the week. There ’s an- 
other thing. We ’ll have to buy considerable ma- 
terial, such as cement, boards for the floor and 
roof, window- and door-casings, and the like. 
That money should be earned by the troop, and I 
think it would be a good plan for Ward, Macll- 
vaine, and Phelps to meet at my house to-morrow 
afternoon or evening to discuss ways and means. 
Is that agreeable ? ’ ’ 

It proved to be, when the question was put to 
vote and decided unanimously in the affirmative. 
The meeting ended with the enthusiasm over the 
project unchecked by this placing of it on a strictly 
methodical and businesslike basis. 

That enthusiasm continued throughout the week, 
and when the crowd assembled on Saturday, Ben- 
nie Rhead, who was housed by a bad cold, was the 
only absentee. The others, laden with axes, saws, 
hatchets, an adz or two and some wide wood-chisels 
until they resembled a gang of pioneers, were in 


ELKHORN CABIN 


123 


high spirits and eager to begin work. Their in- 
terest was heightened by the production of a plan 
Mr. Curtis had drawn up, showing a cabin twenty 
by sixteen feet, with a big stone fireplace oppo- 
site the door, two windows, and a double tier of 
bunks, one on each side of the entrance. 

During the week the scoutmaster had gone over 
the ground with Mr. Grimstone and marked cer- 
tain trees which were to be taken out, mainly 
white pines from six to eight inches in diameter 
that were too closely crowded to develop prop- 
erly, so there was no delay in starting work. Im- 
mediately on reaching the point, the entire troop 
was divided into groups of three or four, each un- 
der the leadership of a boy who knew how to 
handle an ax. As soon as he felled a tree the oth- 
ers trimmed off the scanty limbs, sawed it into 
proper lengths, and stacked these up in piles on 
either side of the glade. 

By noon the piles had assumed such propor- 
tions that after luncheon half of the wood-cut- 
ters were called off and set to notching the ends 
of the log, about eight inches from the end, and 
this was work in which everybody could take 
part. The notches were made on opposite sides 
of the log, about eight inches from the end, and 
were a quarter the thickness of the timber in 
depth. The logs averaged pretty much the same 


m UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


diameter, so that, when fitted together at right 
angles with the under notch on one side resting 
in the upper notch on the other, the whole length 
was snugly in contact, with scarcely any chinks 
to be filled in. 

‘‘That ^s the great advantage of pine,’’ said Mr. 
Curtis, when he had explained the method to the 
boys. “Almost any hard wood will have bumps 
and twists in it, but the trunks of pines growing 
as thickly as these are practically straight from 
one end to the other. 

“Are we going to build up the four walls solid, 
and then cut holes for the door and windows and 
fireplace ? ’ ’ asked Paul Trexler, who had evidently 
been reading up on the construction of cabins. 

The scoutmaster shook his head. “That ’s the 
way many of them are made, but I could never 
quite see its advantage. It ’s a mean job, sawing 
the openings, and the full-length logs are lots 
harder to handle than shorter ones, to say noth- 
ing of the waste of timber. Of course there ’ll 
have to be full-length ones under and over the win- 
dows and over the door ; but if we measure accur- 
ately, there ’s no reason why we shouldn’t leave 
these openings as we go along, and so save time 
and labor. Spiking the door- and window-casings 
to the logs will hold them together firmly enough. ’ ’ 

The cabin had already been staked out, and 


ELKHORN CABIN 


125 


when, presently, the lower logs were set in place 
it was amazing what a difference the sight of that 
simple rectangle made. Instantly the visualizing 
of their dream became nearer and more concrete 
to the boys, its possibilities more apparent. They 
could see at a glance its size and shape and spa- 
ciousness. Entering through the door space, one 
could say that here would be the bunks, there the 
windows, and that gap opposite, the fireplace. It 
stimulated every one to renewed efforts. Blisters 
and tired muscles were forgotten in the eager de- 
sire to get another tier of logs into position. 
When Mr. Grimstone stalked into view, toward 
the middle of the afternoon, he was greeted by 
urgent invitations to ‘‘Come ahead and see how 
the cabin ’s going up ! ^ ’ 

The old man responded stiffly, but it was im- 
possible to maintain that attitude long in the face 
of the boisterous, whole-hearted enthusiasm of 
twenty boys. Inside of ten minutes he was chuck- 
ling over the awkward efforts of one scout to 
handle an adz and showing him the proper 
method. Within an hour, one would never have 
known him for the crusty, crabbed recluse who 
had been at odds with the Hillsgrove boys for 
more than a generation. He had shown the scouts 
a splendid place to get rocks for the fireplace, and 
told them how to make, with two poles and some 


126 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 


cross saplings, a sort of litter for carrying the 
larger ones ; he had made the rounds of the wood- 
choppers and watched them interestedly, criticiz- 
ing, suggesting, and even cracking a dry joke or 
two at their expense. But his interest seemed to 
center in the building operations, to which he 
finally returned. When Mr. Curtis followed him 
a little later, he paused at the edge of the glade, 
a quiet smile curving his lips. 

The old man stood amid a group of boys who 
were notching the logs. He had evidently been 
showing them some improvement on their meth- 
ods, for as the scoutmaster stood there, he heard 
one of them say: ‘Hs that right, Mr. Grimstone? 
Is that the way you mean!’’ 

The old man nodded. ‘^You’ve got it, son; 
you ’ll find that ’ll save you a lot of time. ’ ’ 

‘‘Say, Mr. Grimstone,” piped up Harry Vedder, 
from the other side of the cabin, “won’t you come 
over here, please!” 

“You wait a minute. Dumpling!” admonished 
Bob Gibson. “I ’m next. He promised to give 
me some points about fitting ’em together. ’ ’ 

The scoutmaster’s smile deepened as he came 
forward. “I guess I ’ll have to appoint you build- 
ing foreman, Mr. Grimstone,” he said. “Looks 
as if you knew a lot more about log-cabins than 
I ever will.” 


ELKHOEN CABIN 


127 


From force of habit the other frowned, but his 
eyes were twinkling. ^ ‘ I ’d orter, I reckon, ’ ’ he re- 
turned. ‘‘I built enough of ’em when I was log- 
gin’ up state. If it wa n’t for this pesky arm — ” 

^^That needn’t interfere. You won’t have to 
lift a finger. The boys are only too ready to work 
when they know how. Seriously, if you could 
oversee the building part, it would help us a lot. 
Then I could give all my time to getting out the 
logs, cleaning up, and looking after the chim- 
ney. ’ ’ 

‘‘I s’pose I can,” observed the old man, briefly. 
‘^I ain’t fit for much else jest now — an’ the sooner 
you ’re done, the sooner the mess ’ll be cleared 
up.” 

So it was arranged, and the following Saturday 
found Mr. Grimstone promptly on the job. There 
was no question of his pleasure in the work, in 
spite of the occasional grumblings to which he gave 
vent in odd moments when he was not entirely lost 
in the novel occupation. To these the boys paid 
scant attention. They seemed to realize that they 
wiere merely superficial and really meant nothing, 
and from the first they got on admirably with the 
old man. They even joshed and joked with him, 
and before long he was retorting with sundry dry 
comments that sent them off into shouts of laugh- 
ter. 


128 UNDEB BOY SCOUT COLOES 


Under his supervision the cabin grew apace. 
When the logs Were all cut and carried in, Mr. 
Curtis devoted himself mainly to the stone chim- 
ney which, though necessarily slower and more 
difficult work, progressed very well. The opening 
was made to take four-foot logs, and the stone 
facing filled up more than half that end of the 
cabin. The boys could not wait for its completion 
to give it a baptism of fire. When the sides were 
up three feet or more, they kindled a blaze and 
cooked lunch there — the first meal to be prepared 
in the cabin. 

Another celebration marked the setting of the 
ridge-pole ; and when the roof was laid, it seemed 
as if the end was actually in sight. In the mean- 
time, the important detail of earning money to 
pay for necessary materials had not been lost 
sight of. It had been decided that the scouts 
should go about this either singly or in groups, 
as they preferred. A number of suggestions 
were made by Mr. Curtis, but it was impressed 
upon the troop that there must be no appeal for 
either work or money in any way that would in 
the least savor of begging. Whatever they did 
must be real work, the sort that people wanted 
done v/hether or not a scout cabin was in process 
of erection; and they must always give value re- 
ceived. 


ELKHORN CABIN 


129 


The methods resorted to seemed endless. Three 
boys who were adept with saw, hammer, and 
plane undertook the building of bird-houses, and 
their products were so well made and attractive 
that they had a hard time filling orders. Others 
raked up lawns, tended furnaces, cleaned cellars, 
sawed wood, and did a score of other varied 
chorns. One entire patrol took up the subscrip- 
tion proposition of a big publishing-house and de- 
voted themselves to it with such ardor that they 
cleared up nearly as much as all the rest together. 

It can safely be said that few members of the 
troop had many spare minutes in the month that 
followed the starting of the cabin. There was 
no time for sports or games or reading stories. 
The public library was deserted. Of course there 
were a few who tired of the constant pressure 
and managed to escape a Saturday’s labor by some 
flimsy pretext, but, on the whole, they stuck to it 
with remarkable perseverance. And when the 
last stone was in place on the chimney-top, the last 
chink filled, the last nail driven, there wasn’t a 
boy in all that twenty-five who didn’t feel a thrill 
of proud achievement at the result of their united 
efforts. 


CHAPTEE XII 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


EEY seldom does reality come up to expec- 



V tation, but this was one of the rare excep- 
tions. It was the very cabin of their dreams that 
rose, a concrete fact, before their admiring gaze. 
As they stood off surveying the walls of neatly fit- 
ting logs, the sloping roof where a covering of 
split saplings concealed the useful, waterproof 
tar-paper, the square, workmanlike chimney rising 
beyond, there was a moment of almost awed si- 
lence, broken presently by Court Parker. 

‘‘Some cabin!’’ he exclaimed, voicing the feel- 
ing of them all. “It does n’t seem as if we could 
have built that ourselves, fellows.” 

“We did, though — we and Mr. Curtis and Mr. 
Grimstone!” jubilated Ted Macllvaine. “Gee! 
Think of its being finished, and think of its being 
ours! Come on inside.” 

They went with a rush and broke into eager 
loud-voiced admiration of their handiwork. They 
tried the bunks, stout frameworks of pine with 


130 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


131 


lengths of heavy canvas stretched tightly over 
them, and pronounced them better than any mat- 
tress, clamorously upheld the merit of one piece 
of work over another, and discussed the need of 
a table, chairs, and various other conveniences. 
Of course a fire was started, and when the red 
blaze roared up the chimney they rejoiced at the 
perfection of the draught. Then began a strenu- 
ous altercation as to what the cabin should be 
called which bade fair to end in a deadlock, owing 
to the wide variety of suggestions. 

Neither the scoutmaster nor Mr. Grimstone 
took part in this. The former believed in letting 
the boys settle such questions unaided, while the 
old man so unaffectedly enjoyed the boys’ delight 
that he simply sat in the background, silent, but 
with twinkling eyes. When a lull came in the 
dispute, however, he bethought himself of some- 
thing. 

‘ ^ There ’s a pair of elk horns down to the barn 
you boys may as well have,” he remarked. ^‘You 
can hang ’em up over the fireplace for an orna- 
ment. ’ ’ 

‘^Elk horns!” exclaimed Dale Tompkins. 
‘‘They ’d be dandy! Say!” he went on eagerly, 
stirred by sudden inspiration, “what ’s the matter 
with that for a name, fellows — Elkhorn Cabin?” 

“Swell!” agreed two or three scouts at once. 


132 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


‘^That ’s better than any we Ve had. Sounds like 
the real thing, doesnT itU’ 

A vote was promptly taken, and though Ranny 
Phelps and a few others were against it, the ma- 
jority approved. The horns, a fine pair of antlers, 
were fetched and hung in place, and the cabin 
formally christened. 

‘‘And next week,’^ said Frank Sanson, as they 
were packing up for their tramp home through 
the crisp twilight, “we can come out to camp, 
can’t we, Mr. Curtis?” 

The scoutmaster nodded. “Provided the 
weather is decent and you all get your parents’ 
consent, I don’t see any reason why we should n’t 
spent Friday night here. It may be a bit crowded, 
but we ’ll manage some way.” 

As a matter of fact they did not have to. In- 
deed, there came very near being no overnight 
hike at all. During the building of the cabin the 
weather had been singularly favorable. It was 
snapping cold much of the time but save for a 
flurry or two of snow, the days had been uni- 
formly clear. Now, however, as if to make up for 
her smiles. Nature proceeded to frown. Wednes- 
day was overcast, and all day Thursday a cold 
rain came down to damp the spirits of the would- 
be campers. It turned to snow during the night, 
and next morning found the country-side covered 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


133 


with a mantle of white. The temperature was 
well below freezing and dropping steadily, and 
Mr. Curtis, who had practically given up the idea 
of occupying the cabin that night, was surprised 
toward the middle of the afternoon by the appear- 
ance at his door of a group of white-flecked figures, 
very rosy of cheek and bright of eye, carrying 
blanket-rolls and hung about with cooking utensils 
and sundry parcels. 

‘^We can go, can’t we, sir!” inquired Ted Mac- 
Ilvaine, eagerly, as he dusted the snow off his 
coat. ‘‘You ’re not going to give it up, are 
you!” 

The scoutmaster’s eyebrows lifted. “Have you 
all got permission!” he asked doubtfully. 

“Yes, sir. We can go if you go,” came in a 
prompt chorus. 

For a moment Mr. Curtis hesitated. After all, 
there couldn’t be any risk about the trip even if 
the storm continued «all night. The cabin was 
weather-proof, and enough fire-wood had been cut 
to last them a week. With plenty of food and good 
blankets they would be as snug as possible, and he 
knew from experience the charm of the woods 
in a snow-storm. Looking the bunch over ap- 
praisingly, he saw that there were only seven — 
Macllvaine, Parker, Dale Tompkins, Prank San- 
son, Bob Gibson, Turk Gardner and Pete Oliver, 


134 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

all self-reliant boys of the type who were willing 
to stand a little roughing it without complaint. 

‘^Are you the only ones who want to goV^ he 
asked. 

‘ ‘ Yes, sir, ’ ’ returned Macllvaine. ‘ ‘ Sherman ’s 
away, and Wes has a cold. The others all 
thought — ’’ 

‘‘Cold feet I stated Oliver, derisively, running 
his fingers through a thatch of bright, red hair. 
“They ’re afraid they might get a chill.” 

“Not much danger of that when you ’re around, 
Pete, ’ ’ laughed the scoutmaster. ‘ ‘ W ell, you boys 
had better come in and wait. It ’ll take me ten 
or fifteen minutes to get ready.” 

He appeared in rather less than that time, 
sweatered, mackinawed, with high, laced boots, 
woolen cap, and heavy gloves. Over one shoulder 
swung his blanket-roll, and strapped to his back 
was a good-sized haversack of provisions. He 
knew from experience that some one was sure to 
have forgotten something, so he always went pre- 
pared to supply deficiencies. 

It was a joyous, hilarious bunch that made their 
way through the town and out along the Beldon 
Turnpike. Most of them had- their staves, and 
two had brought snow-shoes along. Their at- 
tempts to use these unfamiliar articles occasioned 
much amusement among the others. 


A CEY IN THE NIGHT 


135 


It took the better part of two hours to reach the 
cabin. The snow had drifted considerably, and 
the road was scarcely broken through. After they 
reached the woods the going was especially hard, 
and a general shout of rejoicing went up as the 
first sight of the sloping, snow-covered roof 
loomed up through the twilight. When the door 
was unlocked they entered with a rush, packs and 
blanket-rolls were dropped, and a fire started at 
once. When this was blazing merrily, Mr. Curtis 
divided the boys into two squads, one of which un- 
dertook preparations for supper and straightened 
up the cabin generally, while the others scraped 
a path through the snow down to the shore of 
the lake. 

There were minor mishaps, of course, in the 
culinary department. A few chops were burned, 
and the baked potatoes resembled lumps of char- 
coal rather than things edible. But there was 
plenty for all, and nothing had ever tasted so 
good as the supper eaten there on the floor be- 
fore the dancing flames. Afterward, when things 
were cleared away and the boys sprawled out on 
their blankets before the fireplace, the two lan- 
terns were extinguished and only the red glow 
of the fire illumined the half-circle of eager young 
faces. The wailing of the wind in the pines and 
the soft, whispering beat of snow against the win- 


136 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


dew's served only to intensify the cozy warmth 
and cheer of the cabin. Instinctively the boys 
drew closer together and, snuggling in their blank- 
ets, discussed for a space the unbelievable stupid- 
ity of any sane person preferring a humdrum even- 
ing at home to this. Then some one besought Mr. 
Curtis to tell a story. 

‘‘What kind of a story?’’ asked the scoutmaster, 
smiling. 

“Oh, a ghost story, of course!” urged several 
voices at once. 

Mr. Curtis laughed, stretched out his legs com- 
fortably, thought for a minute or two, and then 
in a slow, sepulchral voice began a narrative 
which he called “The Headless Horseman of the 
Harlem. ’ ’ It was a tale full of creeps and thrills, 
abounding in dank vaults, weird apparitions, wild 
storms, midnight encounters, and various other 
appropriate settings and incidents. The boys 
drew closer still, luxuriating in the “spookiness” 
of it all, and then, just as some of the more im- 
pressionable were beginning to cast nervous 
glances behind them, he ended with a ridiculous 
climax that brought forth a shout of laughter 
and turned the whole thing into a farce. 

A “round-robin” followed, the scoutmaster 
starting a yarn and leaving it at an exciting and 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


137 


dramatic moment for the hoy on his right to con- 
tinue. The absurdity of these continuations kept 
the crowd in a constant gale of merriment, and 
when the round was made they clamored for an- 
other. But it was growing late, so Mr. Curtis 
substituted a brief anecdote of scout bravery which 
had a humorous twist. It was the story, so often 
repeated in scout annals, of a little fellow plung- 
ing unhesitatingly to the rescue of a bigger boy 
who had stumbled beyond his depth in a swimming- 
hole. The stronger lad seized his rescuer about 
the neck and forced his head below the water. The 
youngster was unable to free himself, but with 
head down and breath almost gone, he hit bottom, 
and then, calmly walking along it, he tugged along 
his struggling friend until the bank was reached. 

‘‘He simply kept his head, you see, and used his 
brain, which is one of the best things scouting 
teaches us,’’ concluded Mr. Curtis. He stood up, 
stretching. “Blankets out, fellows,” he went on, 
‘ ‘ and everybody in bed. ’ ’ 

Each bunk had been planned to accommodate 
two occupants, so there was no crowding or 
necessity for makeshifts. The fire was piled up 
with fresh logs, and though there was a good deal 
of preliminary laughter and chattering, the boys 
were too tired to stay awake long, even under the 


138 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


novel conditions. Bob Gibson was one of the 
last to close his eyes. He had the outside of one 
of the lower bunks with a full view of the fire, and 
though few would have suspected his grutf, matter- 
of-fact manner to overlay even a touch of poetry 
or imagination, he lay there watching it for a long 
time, fascinated by the leaping, dancing, crimson- 
yellow flames, until sleep at length overtook him. 

How long he lay oblivious to sights and sounds 
he had no idea. But it must have been hours later 
when he found himself sitting bolt upright, every 
nerve tingling and in his ears the echo of that 
strange, horrible cry that had shocked him into 
complete wakefulness. 

‘‘What ’s that?” came in a tense, frightened 
gasp from one of the boys across the room. 

Bob did not answer. He sat there shaking ner- 
vously and straining his ears for a repetition of 
the ghastly sound. The fire had died down to a 
bed of dull red embers, and there was a noticeable 
chill over everything. He caught his breath as a 
dark shadow swiftly passed him and then realized, 
with a feeling of keen relief, that it was Mr. Curtis. 
A moment later the scoutmaster had thrown an 
armful of light wood on the embers and the fire 
blazed up, illumining the pale faces of the boys, 
strained, startled, but all tense with expectation. 

Suddenly the cry came again, a piercing, 


A CEY IN THE NIGHT 


139 


strangled, high-pitched scream that turned the 
blood cold and brought out beads of perspiration 
on more than one forehead. It seemed to come 
from just outside the cabin door. 



CHAPTEE XIII 


WHAT THEY FOUND 

B y this time Macllvaine and Frank Sanson 
had tumbled out of their bunks, and Bob fol- 
lowed their example. 

‘‘Wha — what is it, sirT’ he asked, striving to 
keep his voice steady. 

‘‘I don^t know,^’ returned Mr. Curtis, briefly. 
He had slid into his riding-breeches and was hur- 
riedly dragging on the heavy boots. ‘‘That ^s 
what we fll have to find out. ^ ’ 

Bob hastily caught up his trousers. “It — it 
sounded like somebody being — choked,’’ he said 
shakily. 

Every one was ont on the floor now, grabbing 
hastily for his clothes. Oliver caused a momen- 
tary spasm of mirth by trying to crowd both feet 
into one trouser-leg, but for the most part the boys 
huddled on their things in silence, shivering a bit 
from cold and nervousness. In about two minutes 
they were ready, and, catching up their staves, 
they hurried out into the open, the scoutmaster 
leading the way. 


140 


WHAT THEY FOUND 


141 


It had stopped snowing, and overhead a few 
stars gleamed coldly out of the blue-black sky. 
The wind had died down and the snow-clad woods 
stretched away before them, dim, white, oppres- 
sively silent, the tree-trunks black, the laden hem- 
locks distorted into queer shapes and shadows. 

The bright gleam from the scoutmaster’s flash- 
light, sweeping the snow about the cabin door, 
showed it unbroken by a single footprint of man 
or animal. They pushed on through the group 
of hemlocks, showering themselves with icy par- 
ticles, but still they neither saw nor heard any- 
thing unusual. Then, just as some of the sounder 
sleepers were beginning to wonder whether they 
might not have dreamed it all, there rang out sud- 
denly from among the tall laurel-bushes to their 
left a piercing, gurgling scream. 

The horrible sound, so much clearer and more 
blood-curdling in the open, seemed to paralyze 
them all. For a fraction of a second they stood 
motionless; then Mr. Curtis plunged forward 
through the snow, and the rest followed in a strag- 
gling group, eyes starting and hands spasmod- 
ically clenching their staves. 

‘ Ht ’s somebody being — murdered ! ’ ’ gasped Bob 
Gibson, huskily. knew the minute I heard it 
that something awful — ’’ 

He broke off with a queer, inarticulate murmur. 


142 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


Mr. Curtis had stopped so suddenly that the boy 
just behind narrowly escaped running into him. 
Throwing back his head, he sent peal after peal 
of laughter ringing through the silent woods. The 
scouts stared, dazed, as if they thought he had 
taken leave of his senses. 

‘‘What is it, sirT’ begged two or three voices 
at once. “What — 

The scoutmaster choked and gurgled speech- 
lessly, waving one arm helplessly toward the woods 
ahead. Several of the keenest-eyed thought they 
saw a vague, dark shadow moving silently across 
the snow; but it meant nothing to them, and they 
turned back to their leader, as bewildered as be- 
fore. 

“What a sell!^’ gasped the latter, striving to 
regain his self-control; “what an awful sell!’’ 
He succeeded in choking down his laughter, but 
there were tears of mirth in his eyes as they swept 
the staring circle. “It ’s nothing but an owl, fel- 
lows,” he chuckled. 

‘ ‘ An owl 1 ’ ’ exclaimed Ted Macllvaine, incredu- 
lously. ‘ ‘ An owl — ^making a noise like that ! ’ ’ 

The scoutmaster nodded and wiped his eyes. 
“An owl,” he repeated. “There! Listen!” 

To-whoo-hoo-hoo, to-whoo-whoo, A full, deep- 
toned note, like the distant baying of a hound, 
was wafted back through the woods. The 


WHAT THEY FOUND 143 

strained expression on several faces relaxed, 
but they still looked puzzled. 

‘‘That’s more familiar,” smiled Mr. Curtis. 
“It ’s a great horned owl. You look as if you 
did n’t believe it yet, Bob,” he added, “but that ’s 
what it is, all the same. I ’ve never heard it 
give that other sound, but I ought to have known 
— ’ ’ He broke off, chuckling. ‘ ‘ He certainly gave 
us a shock ! I suppose we ’ll never hear the end 
of it. Let ’s get back to the fire; it ’s sort of 
chilly here.” 

They lost no time in following the suggestion. 
Back in the cabin they fed the blaze with fresh 
wood, and, sleep being out of the question for a 
while, gathered close around it, giggling and chat- 
tering and laughingly comparing their emotions 
on awakening to that blood-curdling scream com- 
ing out of the night. 

“I was' scart stiff,” frankly confessed Court 
Parker. 

“Same here,” echoed several voices. 

But Bob Gibson declined to treat the incident 
with the careless levity of the others. “I ’d like 
to shoot the beast ! ” he growled vindictively, think- 
ing of the way his ne;*ves and feelings had been 
played upon. 

“It would be the best thing that could happen,” 
put in Mr. Curtis, decidedly. “We ’ll have to see 


144 UNDER BOY. SCOUT COLORS 

if we can’t manage it. Most owls are not only 
harmless, but a real benefit, living as they do 
mainly on rats and mice. But this creature can 
do more damage than any other bird except one or 
two species of hawks. A single one of them will 
destroy whole covies of quail, kill partridges, 
ducks, and song-birds, to say nothing of all sorts 
of domestic fowls. I ’ll have to bring out a shot- 
gun and see if I can’t pot him, or there won’t be 
any birds left for us to feed.” 

He made several trips to the neighborhood of 
the cabin during the following ten days, but it 
was not until the week after Christmas that he 
got sight of the big marauder and with a fine 
shot brought him down from the top of a tall 
hemlock. Several of the scouts who were with 
him rushed forward to secure the bird, and were 
surprised at the size of the buif-and-white body, 
with its great spread of wing, fierce, hooked beak, 
and prominent ear-tufts. 

‘‘We ought to have him stu:ffed,” said Frank 
'Sanson, holding it up at full length. “He ’d cer- 
tainly make a dandy trophy for the cabin. ’ ’ 

Mr. Curtis agreed to undertake it, and that night 
sent the bird to a taxidermist in the city. It came 
back several weeks later, mounted in the most 
lifelike manner, and became one of the principal 


WHAT THEY FOUND 


145 


decorations of the cabin. Court at once christened 
it ‘‘Bob’s alarm-clock,” much to the mystification 
of the fellows who had not been present on that 
memorable night. They knew that something un- 
usual had happened, but were never able to find 
out just what, for the “advance-guard,” as the 
seven called themselves, kept the incident carefully 
to themselves, and Mr. Curtis never told. 

Long before this an ample supply of grain had 
been taken out to their headquarters and several 
feeding-stations established in different parts of 
the woods. These consisted mainly of rough shel- 
ters made of saplings, hemlock boughs, or stacks 
of old corn-stalks, furnished by Mr. Grimstone, in 
which the grain was scattered. There could be no 
question of their value, for from the first the 
snow about them was covered with bird-tracks of 
every variety. Before long, too, scouts visiting 
these stations to replenish the supply reported 
that the birds were growing noticeably tamer. In- 
stead of flying off at the first sight of the boys, they 
sat in the trees and bushes around the shelters with 
an air almost of expectancy. Later they took to 
swooping down on the grain the moment it was 
poured out, without waiting for the scouts to move 
away. The climax came when one day Dale Tomp- 
kins excitedly reported that: “A chickadee came 


146 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


and lit right on the bag to-day, sir. He didn’t 
seem a bit afraid, and only hopped off when I be- 
gan to scatter the grain. ’ ’ 

‘^They ’ll do more than that if you treat them 
right,” returned the scoutmaster. ’ve known 
of several cases where not only chickadees, but 
wrens and juncos and snow-sparrows and even 
wilder birds have grown so fearless that they ’ve 
fed readily from the hand. Why don ’t you fellows 
try it? The main thing is to get them used to 
your bringing food to a certain place, and, when 
they ’re about, not to make any sudden movement 
that might frighten them. It would be rather fun 
to see how many varieties you could tame. ’ ’ 

The idea met with general favor and when put 
into practice was remarkably successful. There 
also developed not a little good-natured rivalry 
among the boys as to which would first report the 
presence of a new bird at the feeding-stations ; all 
of which helped to keep up the interest in the work 
and prevent it becoming monotonous and tiresome. 


CHAPTEE XIV 

THE BOY WHO COULD N^T SWIM 

T he usual January thaw carried away most 
of the snow and made things generally 
sloppy and unpleasant. But it was followed by 
another cold snap, which put a glassy surface on 
the lake and drew the boys thither in greater 
numbers than ever. Almost every afternoon as 
soon as school was out a crowd of scouts, with 
skates slung about their necks and hockey-sticks in 
hand, might have been seen hurrying along the 
turnpike. Those who owned wheels made use 
of them ; the others rode ‘ ‘ shanks ’ mare, ’ ^ skylark- 
ing as they went and hilariously seizing every 
chance of a lift that came along. 

Nor were they all members of Troop Five by 
any means. Mr. Grimstone had needed very little 
persuasion to grant the privileges of the lake to 
Hillsgrove scouts generally, and many were the 
exciting games of hockey that enlivened the win- 
ter afternoons. More often than not the clear, 
cold ring of steel on ice, the grate of swiftly turn- 
ing runners, the sharp crack of wood against 
147 


148 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


wood, the excited shouts and yells of shrill young 
voices, resounded on the lake until the gathering 
twilight made it difficult to distinguish one swiftly 
moving figure from another. 

Prom its rocky elevation the log-cabin over- 
looked the active scene, smoke rising from its 
hospitable chimney and the red glow of a blazing 
fire gleaming in the windows and winking through 
the often opened door. Here congregated those 
who were too indifferent or unskilful to indulge in 
hockey, while every now and then a player would 
dash in to thaw out. On Fridays there was pretty 
sure to be a crowd spending the night there, and 
then the odor of crisping bacon or broiling chops 
mingled with the fragrance of the pines; the 
laughter and joshing kept up throughout the even- 
ing, and from the gray farmhouse across the lake 
an old man, glimpsing the cheery yellow gleam, 
would chuckle to himself and rub his knotted hands 
softly together. 

‘‘Them boys are havin’ a good time ag’in to- 
night,” he would murmur. “Reckon I ’ll hev’ to 
step over an’ see ’em in the mornin’.” 

Whenever he appeared he was sure of a hearty 
welcome, for underneath that crustiness, caused 
by years of loneliness and narrow living, the scouts 
had found a spirit as young and simple and lik- 
able, almost, as a boy’s. And the old man, revel- 


THE BOY WHO COULDN’T SWIM 149 


ing in this novel, pleasant intercourse, felt some- 
times as if he were beginning life all over again. 

In this wise the winter passed with its usual 
mingling of work and play. Coasting, hockey, 
snow hikes, and the like mixed healthfully with 
regular lessons, the bird-feeding, studying up for 
merit badges or first- or second-class tests, and 
other scout duties and activities. The skating, 
particularly, was unusually prolonged, and the 
first signs of March thaws met with general 
regret. 

^‘Well, we can have one more good game, any- 
how,” remarked Frank Sanson, as they came out 
of school at noon. Maybe it will be a little soft, 
but it will bear all right. Who ’s going out f ” 

There were a number of affirmative replies, 
though the general opinion seemed to be that the 
ice would be too sloppy to have much fun. 

“I ’m going to try it, anyhow,” Frank declared, 
as he got on his wheel. ^‘See you fellows out 
there.” 

‘‘Don’t take any chances before we come,” Sher- 
man Ward called after him. “Eemember you 
can’t swim.” 

Sanson sniffed and shouted back a hasty denial 
of the charge. Nevertheless, as he rode home for 
dinner he was glad the time was coming when no 
one would be able even to hint at his deficiencies 


150 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


in that line. When it came to taking care of 
themselves in the water the boys of Hillsgrove had 
been more or less handicapped in the past, and 
like a number of others, Frank could swim only a 
few strokes. This spring, however, with the lake 
at his disposal, he meant to devote every spare 
minute to gaining proficiency in the art, so that 
when the time came for their summer camp he 
need ask no odds from anybody. 

He finished dinner early and, with skates and 
hockey-stick, rode briskly out to the lake. He ex- 
pected to be the first one there, but on the wood- 
road he noticed the fresh tracks of another bicycle, 
and, reaching the cabin, he found Paul Trexler 
standing before the fireplace, in which a lively 
blaze was going. 

‘^Gee! You couldn’t have had much dinner,” 
he remarked. 

brought it with me,” exclaimed the boy, who 
was a rather silent lad with an unusual capacity 
for enjoying his own company. Anybody else 
coming out?” 

^ ‘ Sure ; quite a bunch. Tried the ice yet ? ” 

‘‘No; I was just going to. ” 

“Come ahead, then,” urged Sanson, briskly. 
“It ’ll be about our last chance, and I don’t want 
to lose any time. ’ ’ 

They put on their skates at the edge of the lake 


THE BOY WHO COULDN’T SWIM 151 


and then tested the ice. It was noticeably soft, 
especially near the shore, but seemed firm enough. 
Farther out it was better, and as they skated up 
and down together Frank decided that they would 
have their game even if they did get pretty wet 
before it was over. 

Guess I ’ll go up a ways and sort of explore 
a little,” said Trexler, presently. It was almost 
his first remark since leaving the cabin, and his 
tone did not indicate any special desire for 
company. 

‘‘All right,” nodded Sanson. “Go ahead, only 
be careful about the ice. Mr. Grimstone says 
there are springs up there, and you know this is 
just the weather to make them dangerous.” For 
a moment or two he stood watching the thin, 
stooping figure sweeping up the lake; then he 
smiled. “He ’s a queer duck,” he murmured. 
“I should think he ’d get awful tired of just play- 
ing around with himself that way. Wish the oth- 
ers would hurry up. ” 

There were no signs of them, however, so he set 
himself to master an intricate figure he had been 
trying for several days past. Though there were 
no swimming facilities about the village, the an- 
nual flooding and freezing over of a flat meadow 
on the outskirts gave the fellows a very decent 
chance for skating, of which most of them had 


152 UNDEB BOY SCOUT COLOES 


availed themselves. Sanson was one of the most 
proficient in the sport and enjoyed it thoroughly, 
especially now that the spacious lake gave them so 
much greater scope. His runners cut the ice in 
sweeping, graceful curves, and each time the mo- 
mentum carried him nearer to the completion of 
the figure. Once or twice he noticed Trexler up 
toward the outlet, but it was in a vague sort of 
way, with a mind concentrated on his own evolu- 
tions. 

‘Ht ’s coming all right, he said aloud, pausing 
for a second to get his breath. Ve got the 
hang of it now. One more try and I can make it. ’ ’ 

But Fate willed otherwise. As a matter of fact, 
Frank did not make that final effort which was to 
bring him success. He skated over to a clear spot 
on the ice and was swinging along to get up speed 
when a sudden panicky cry from up the lake made 
him stop and whirl around with a grind of steel 
runners that threw up a shower of icy particles. 

Trexler was nowhere to be seen! For a frac- 
tion of a second Frank stared open-mouthed at 
the bare expanse of ice narrowing to the outlet, 
spanned by the old stone bridge. Then his sweep- 
ing glance paused at a dark, irregular patch in the 
glistening surface where something seemed to 
move feebly, and with a smothered cry he dug his 
skates into the ice and sped up the lake. 



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THE BOY WHO COULD N»T SWIM 155 


The distance was not really great, but to the 
frightened boy it seemed interminable. Almost 
at once he recognized the spot as open water in 
the midst of which Trexler’s white face and claw- 
ing hands striving frantically for a hold on the 
treacherous, splintering edges stood out with hor- 
rible distinctness — Trexler, who could not swim 
a stroke! 

Frank shuddered and dug his teeth into his un- 
der lip. For the matter of that, he himself was 
almost as helpless. With a sick, sinking pang it 
was borne in on him that the few halting strokes 
he had learned to take in smooth water last sum- 
mer w^ould be next to useless in an emergency like 
this. But he did not pause nor lessen his speed. 
He only knew that he could not hesitate, with that 
anguished face and those clutching hands to spur 
him on. 

‘^Hold on a minute longer, Paul!^’ he cried, 
when he was within twenty feet of the hole. 
‘ ^ Don ’t let go. I — 1 11 — get you out ! ’ ^ 

Jerking at the lever of his skates, he kicked them 
otf. The hockey-stick was still in his grasp, and, 
with this outstretched, he flung himself flat on the 
ice and wriggled forward. He paid no heed to the 
ominous cracking beneath him ; there was no time 
for caution. Trexler had lost the slight grip he 
had had on the crumbling edges of the hole and 


156 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


was beating the water madly with his hands. His 
eyes, wild with despairing horror, were fixed on 
Frank with a desperate pleading that made the boy 
oblivious to everything save the vital need of 
haste. 

With a sharp thrust of both feet, he pushed him- 
self forward. The stick slid over the jagged edges 
of the hole and straight into the groping hands 
that closed over and hung upon it with the tena- 
cious grip that knows no reason. 

‘‘DonT jerk it!^’ cried Sanson, sharply, as the 
ice creaked and cracked beneath him. Just hold 
tight and let me draw you in. ’ ’ 

But Trexler was too far gone to heed. There 
came another crack more ominous than the others. 
Even now, by letting go the stick, Frank could 
have escaped by rolling swiftly to one side or the 
other. He wanted to — desperately ; but some- 
thing within him stronger even than his fear 
clenched his fingers around the tape-wound hick- 
ory. 

In another second the ice on which he lay gave 
with a crash and plunged him into the icy water. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE RESCUE 

A S he went under, Sanson’s first feeling was 
one of utter panic. The shock and cold, 
above all the horrible sense of suffocation, started 
him struggling as madly and ineffectually as Trex- 
ler had done a moment before. Then all at once, 
out of the whirling turmoil of fear which filled his 
soul, some vague remembrance of the brief lessons 
last summer stood forth, and he thrust downward 
with his feet. The motion was almost entirely in- 
stinctive, but the result was curiously steadying. 
The moment that downward movement ceased, his 
brain seemed to clear and he got a grip on himself. 

mustn’t come up under the ice,” he found 
himself thinking, as he pushed vigorously upward 
again. 

Then his head cleaved the water and he gulped 
in the blessed air in long, deep breaths. An in- 
stant later this was cut off by the grip of arms 
about his neck as Trexler, whom he had momen- 
tarily forgotten, clutched at him with all the 
strength and determination of despair. 

157 


158 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


That there were approved methods of releas- 
ing such grips Frank knew from repeated peru- 
sals of the scout handbook, but not a vestige of 
them stuck in his mind now. Full of wild panic, 
he struck out blindly with all his power. Trex- 
ler’s head went back under the impact; his grasp 
slackened. Sanson had a momentary glimpse of 
the white face with half-closed eyes and twisted 
lips all a-swirl with water, and again that im- 
pulse that was stronger than panic made him reach 
out and catch hold of the boy’s shoulder. At al- 
most the same instant something hard grazed his 
cheek, and he realized that the force of his blow 
had sent him against one side of the hole. With 
a grasp of thankfulness, he caught at it, finding the 
ice here fairly substantial. He drew Trexler’s 
body closer to him, and for the first time since the 
plunge he had a moment in which to think. 

must n’t try and climb out or it ’ll break,” he 
muttered. ‘‘Wliy don’t the fellows come? They 
must have got out by now.” He quite failed to 
realize how short a space of time it was since he 
had first started to Trexler’s aid. can’t hold 
on here much longer. I ’m freezing now, and — ” 
His voice broke a little, but he bit his lip and 
choked back the sob in his throat. Then, sum- 
moning all his strength, he tried to shout for help, 
but the result was a hoarse croak that could not 


THE EESCUE 


159 


have been heard a hundred feet away. To his 
utter astonishment it was answered from close 
at hand. 

^ ‘ Hold tight, Frank ; we ’re coming ! ’ ’ 

It was Sherman Ward’s voice. Sanson could 
scarcely believe his senses, even though a moment 
later he heard the scrape of skates and the grat- 
ing of a sudden stopping. It took him a moment 
or two to realize that he had become turned 
around and was facing the inlet and the bridge, 
so that the fellows had been able to approach 
from down the lake without his seeing them. 

‘^Get that branch there,” he heard Sherman 
order crisply. ‘‘Hustle! Can you keep up a bit 
longer, Frank?” 

‘ ‘ S-s-sure ! ’ ’ answered Sanson, through chatter- 
ing teeth. “Only be as qu-quick as you c-c-can. 
P-P-Paul— ” 

“We ’ll be there in half a shake. That ’s it, 
Dale. Shove it across. Now, you fellows hold 
fast to that end while I go out.” 

There was a scraping sound and the end of a 
stout branch appeared in front of Sanson. Then, 
more slowly, Sherman’s head and shoulders came 
in sight as he crept cautiously out along it. 

“I ’ll take him first,” he said. “Can you raise 
4im up a little?” 

“I ’m afraid not. My arm ’s all numb, and — ” 


160 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


‘‘All right/’ interrupted the patrol-leader. 
“ I ’ll manage. Hold fast back there. ’ ’ 

He wriggled forward a bit more and, reaching 
down, managed to catch Trexler under the arms. 
To draw him out of the water was a more difficult 
business, but Sherman had good muscles and ac- 
complished it without accident. The ice creaked 
and groaned, but evidently had not been much 
weakened by the treacherous spring, and it held. 
The arm with which Frank had been supporting 
the boy had absolutely no feeling in it, and the 
strain of gripping the slippery ice was growing 
unendurable. He shifted his hold to the stick, 
however, and a moment later he was half lifted, 
half helped out on the solid ice. 

“Yours for the cabin, quick!” said Ward, 
tersely. ‘ ‘ Here, Ted, give us a hand. ’ ’ 

Macllvaine stepped quickly forward, and to- 
gether they hustled Sanson across the ice. At 
first, Frank could scarcely move his feet and had 
to be practically carried along. But gradually 
the rapid motion, the stumbling, recovering, and 
general jolting-up began to send the blood tingling 
back into his chilled body. Ahead of them he 
could see Ranleigh and Dale Tompkins support- 
ing Trexler, and making even better speed than 
his own conductors. The sight of that limp body, 
with one hand dangling helplessly, brought to 


THE RESCUE 


161 


Frank a sudden stinging pang of remorse and ap- 
prehension as he remembered the frenzied blow 
he had struck the fellow. 

‘‘Paul — he gasped; “is he — ’’ 

“It ’s the cold and shock mostly, I think, an- 
swered Sherman. “He ’s all in, but not really 
unconscious. Hid he go down 1 ’ ^ 

“I don’t think so. Not more than once, any- 
way. ’ ’ 

There was no more conversation until after they 
reached the cabin. Frank was able to stumble up 
the rocky slope unaided, and, once inside, his 
clothes were stripped off and he was rolled in 
blankets that had been heated before the roaring 
blaze. Muffled in these, with some of the boys 
deftly rubbing his legs and arms, it was n ’t long 
before a delicious languor crept over him and he 
actually felt like dozing off to sleep. 

He might have yielded to the impulse but for 
his anxiety about Trexler. Paul lay in the oppo- 
site bunk and was being subjected to the same 
treatment as Frank, but he did not seem to be re- 
sponding as readily as the more robust fellow. Of 
course, he had been longer exposed to the cold and 
shock, but Sanson did not think of that. He was 
still worrying over the ruthless manner in which 
he had struck the boy, and fearful that in some 
way the blow might be responsible for Trexler ’s 


162 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


condition. When Mr. Curtis and the doctor ap- 
peared, summoned by one of the fellows who had 
ridden hastily back to town on his wheel, Frank 
watched them apprehensively. When the scout- 
master at length came over to his bunk he sat up 
abruptly and poured forth his doubts and fears 
before the older man had time to say a word. 

Mr. Curtis listened quietly, and when the boy 
had finished he smiled reassuringly and shook his 
head. ‘^You needn’t worry about that, Frank,” 
he said. ‘ ‘ The doctor says he ’ll come around all 
right. He ’s pretty well done up from the expo- 
sure and shock, and you know he ’s never been so 
very strong. I don’t think your hitting him has 
had much to do with it, but even if it had, no one 
could blame you. It was a question of that, or of 
both of you going down, and in such an emergency 
almost any methods are right. How are you feel- 
ing yourself ! ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, I ’m all right now, sir. There ’s nothing 
at all the matter with me. I don’t see why I can’t 
get up.” 

“Better not just yet. There ’s nothing special 
you can do. I have a car over by the bridge, and 
when Paul is fit to be moved, we ’ll all go back to- 
gether.” 

“But I ’ve got my wheel here,” protested 
Frank. 


THE EESCUE 


163 


‘‘Let somebody else ride it in/’ returned Mr. 
Curtis. “After sucb a dousing there ’s no use 
taking chances.” He paused a moment, his eyes 
fixed quizzically on the boy’s face. “You can’t 
swim, can you, Frank?” he went on presently. 

“Oh, yes, sir!” the boy said hastily. 

A faint smile curved the man’s lips. “How 
much?” he asked quietly. “About six strokes?” 

Sanson flushed, and a guilty grin overspread 
his face. “Make it eight, sir,” he chuckled. “A 
fellow can’t seem to fool you at all.” 

“And yet you went in after — ” 

“But I didn’t!” interrupted Frank, earnestly. 
“I was reaching out with my hockey-stick, and 
the ice broke and dropped me in. I didn’t mean 
to at all.” 

“Broke without any warning, I suppose,” 
murmured Mr. Curtis. “You couldn’t pos- 
sibly have escaped — even by letting go your 
stick. ’ ’ 

The boy’s flush deepened, and he wriggled un- 
comfortably. “I — I — ” he stammered, and then 
was silent. 

The scoutmaster gave a low, contented laugh, 
and something in his glance sent an odd thrill 
through Sanson. He didn’t analyze it. He only 
knew that all at once he had ceased to feel em- 
barrassed and was happy and comfortable, and 


164 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


back of it all not a little proud of the thing which 
had won his scoutmaster’s commendation. 

won’t bother you any more,” smiled Mr. 
Curtis, as he turned away. ‘‘I had an idea that 
was about how it happened, though.” 

A pleasant glow crept over the boy, continuing 
even after he had got into his clothes and was 
making his way along the shore toward the bridge. 
It was still present to a certain extent next day, 
tod, combined with a touch of remorse that lin- 
gered in the back of his mind, brought him in the 
afternoon to the Trexler house to inquire for Paul, 
who had not appeared at school. He did not ex- 
pect to see the boy, and when Mrs. Trexler asked 
him to come in, he was seized with a mild sort of 
panic. 

was afraid of a cold, so I kept him home 
to-day. I know he ’ll want to see you,” she said 
as Frank stepped into the hall and closed the door 
reluctantly behind him. want to — ” 

She broke off abruptly, and Frank, flashing a 
single startled glance at her, saw that her eyes 
were full of tears. Instantly he dropped his own 
and stood awkwardly twisting his cap and wish- 
ing he hadn’t come. 

“I know boys hate being thanked,” Mrs. Trex- 
ler went on presently in a voice which wasn’t 
quite steady, ‘‘so I won’t pester you with — with a 


THE RESCUE 165 

mother gratitude. I just want you to let 
me — 

She bent over suddenly and kissed him on the 
forehead. The boy flushed crimson and mumbled 
something about its being only what any fellow 
would have done. Would Paul go on this way, 
too, he wondered apprehensively as he followed 
her down the hall. He supposed it was natural 
for a woman to get all worked up, but if a fel- 
low — 

‘‘Some one to see you, Paul,’^ said Mrs. Trex- 
ler, cheerfully, pausing beside an open doorway. 

She motioned for Frank to enter and then, to 
his relief, departed, leaving the two boys alone. 
Paul had been reading beside a window, but as 
Sanson appeared he stood up slowly. Though 
looking much better than he had the afternoon 
before, his face was still a little pale, and the 
visitor perceived, with a sudden sense of return- 
ing composure, that he, too, was overcome with 
embarrassment. Somehow the discovery made 
things a lot easier. 

“I — I ’m awfully glad you came in,’’ Trexler 
stammered. He put out his hand awkwardly, but 
there was a vigor in his lingering grip that told 
something of the feelings words refused to ex- 
press. 

“You — weren’t in school, so I thought maybe 


166 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


you were — sick, or something,’’ Sanson returned. 

' ^ Gee ! What a dandy room ! ’ ’ 

Now that the worst was over he began to be 
rather glad he had come, and stared about him 
with eager interest. Certainly it was a room to 
excite any boy’s enthusiasm. Long and rather 
narrow, there were two windows on one side 
through which the winter sun poured cheerfully. 
Against the opposite wall, and filling almost the 
entire space, was a large glass-fronted case, con- 
taining the most amazingly realistic reproduction 
of woodland life the boy had ever seen. 

Fastened in one corner was the gnarled crotch 
of a tree with a great, roughly built nest of twigs 
and leaves from which two baby hawks, their 
down just giving place to feathers, thrust up in- 
quiring heads. At the other end of the case 
stood a section of a silvery white oak, with one 
long branch extending along the back. An owl 
perched here, teased by a blackbird with out- 
stretched wings and open beak, and there were 
several birds ’-nests among the branches. The 
lower part of the case was filled with small 
bushes, clumps of grass, and reeds, among which 
Frank noted quantities of other nests, some with 
eggs and some without, more mounted birds of 
various sorts, and several animals, such as a mink, 
two squirrels, and a skunk, all in the most lifelike 


THE RESCUE 


167 


attitudes. Turning from an eager inspection of 
the case, he stared at Trexler in amazement. 

^Ht the greatest thing I ever saw!^’ he ex- 
claimed. ‘ ‘ Do you mean to say you did it all your- 
self U’ 

Paul nodded, his pale face tinged with color, 
his eyes sparkling. ‘Ht isnT hard when you 
know how to stuff things,’’ he said. took les- 
sons in the city before we came out here last year. 
It ’s been lots of fun fixing them up.” 

‘‘But how the deuce did you get ’em all?” Frank 
turned quickly back to the case again. “You must 
be a dandy shot.” 

“But I ’m not ! I hate to kill things — especially 
birds. You see, I go off for long tramps a lot, 
and in the winter especially you often find birds 
that have been frozen, or killed by flying into 
things. Some of them people gave me. A farmer 
that I know out near Alton shot that skunk and 
the mink in his chicken-yard. The quail and that 
woodcock came from down South. A cousin of 
mine sent them up, and I got Mother to let me 
take the skins otf before she cooked them.” 

“How about the hawks — those are hawks, 
aren’t they?” 

“Sure. Red-shouldered hawks. I s’pose I 
oughtn’t to have taken them, but I wanted to try 
taming some. I knew where there was a nest, and 


168 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


last spring I got up the tree with climbers and took 
two. They were awful funny the way they sit 
up and cry whenever they saw me coming. I guess 
I must have fed ’em too much, or something, for 
they died in , 9 ;bout a week. I wSn’t try it again, 
you bet ! ” 

Paul looked rather sheepish as he made this con- 
fession, and hurried on to another subject. 
‘‘It ’s the same way about the eggs. T used to take 
only one out of a nest, but Mr. Curtis said even 
that was pretty hard on the birds, so I stopped. 
I have n’t taken any since I ’ve been a scout. It ’s 
more fun, really, taking pictures.” 

“Pictures of birds’ eggs I” 

“Oh, eggs and nests and birds — anything wild. 
It ’s dandy sport. I ’ve got quite a lot of good 
ones if you ’d like to see them.” 

Prank quickly acquiesced, and as Paul went over 
to a desk for the photograph book, his eyes 
followed the boy with an odd expression in them. 
Hitherto he had regarded Trexler with a certain 
measure of tolerance as a queer, unsociable sort 
of fellow, who seldom took part in the sports and 
pastimes of the troop, but preferred moping by 
himself. It had never occurred to him that the 
solitary rambles could be productive of anything 
like the results he saw about him. As he glanced 
again at the case, a dawning respect began to fill 


THE EESCUE 


169 


him for the boy who could do all this and yet 
remain so modest that not a whisper of it leaked 
out among his companions. 

That respect deepened as Frank turned the 
pages of the album and examined scores of photo- 
graphs of feathered wild things. There were 
not alone pictures of the commoner birds, but 
many of the shyer sort, like the cardinal, the 
oven-bird, and several varieties of thrush which 
rarely emerge from the deep woodland, and they 
had been taken in all sorts of positions. Trexler 
had even succeeded in getting a very good photo- 
graph of the great blue heron, and his account of 
the difficulties of that enterprise filled Sanson with 
enthusiasm. 

“It must be great!’’ he exclaimed eagerly. “I 
wish I could go along with you some time and see 
how you do it. ’ ’ 

“Why don’t you? I ’d like to have you — 
awfully. ’ ’ 

There could be no mistaking the earnestness of 
the invitation, and Frank took it up promptly. 

“All right; that ’s a go. You let me know the 
next time you go out, and I ’ll be there like a run- 
away freight-train.” He rose to go, for to his 
surprise it was growing dark; he had no idea he 
had stayed so long. “You ’ve certainly got a cork- 
ing place here,” he said, glancing around for the 


170 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


last time. “Why, yon ought to be able to rake in 
a whole lot of merit badges. There ’s taxidermy 
and bird study and — ’’ 

“I ’m only a second class scout,’’ interrupted 
Trexler, briefly. He flushed a little and twisted 
his fingers together. “You see, I — can’t swim. 
But I ’m going to learn,” he added determinedly. 
“I ’m going to start in the minute the water ’s 
warm enough and keep it up till I get the hang 
of it, even if it takes all summer.” 

“Same here,” laughed Frank, as they reached 
the front door. “We ’ll be two dubs together, 
won’t we! Good-by, and thanks for showing 
me all the stuff.” 

Out in the street he thrust both hands deep in 
his pockets and started briskly homeward, whis- 
tling. Presently he stopped and laughed rather 
sheepishly. 

‘ ^ Gee ! ” he muttered. “It ’s funny how you can 
get a fellow’s number wrong — -it sure is!” 


CHAPTEE XVI 

TREXLER^S TRANSFORMATION 

S ANSON’S account of his visit to Paul Trexler 
was received at first with a good deal of in- 
credulity. But when he persisted that he was n’t 
trying to play any trick general curiosity was 
aroused among the fellows, and they began to drop 
in at the Trexler house to see for themselves the 
wonderful case of birds and the even more wonder- 
ful photographs. Before he knew it Paul became 
almost a public character. 

At first he did not like it at all. Excessively 
shy by nature, he had gone his solitary way for 
so long that he did n’t know how to take the jokes 
and banter and mild horse-play of a crowd of boys. 
But gradually he grew accustomed to it, and when 
he found that the fellows weren’t making fun of 
him, as he at first supposed, but really regarded 
him with a marked respect for his unusual talents, 
he began actually to enjoy the situation. 

He came to know the boys better, to find pleas- 
ure in their companionship. He no longer went 
171 


172 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


off on those solitary tramps, for there was always 
some one ready and eager to accompany him. 
And little by little even these excursions began to 
grow slightly less frequent as he discovered, with 
a mild surprise, that there was a good deal of fun 
to be extracted from the regular sports and games 
and doings of the crowd. 

Frank Sanson was mainly responsible for this. 
Keen, eager, full of enthusiasm about everything, 
he flung himself into all the school and troop ac- 
tivities with a zest which made him one of the 
livest hoys in Hillsgrove. He could enjoy an 
occasional tramp in the woods with Trexler be- 
cause of the novelty and interest of their search ; 
but he could not understand any one wanting to 
devote himself exclusively to such an occupation. 

^‘You miss half your life in not going more with 
the fellows, Paul,^^ he remarked one day in early 
April. ‘‘Why don’t you leave the old camera at 
home and come on up to the ball-field with me! 
We ’re going to have a great old practice to-day.” 

“But I can’t play baseball,” protested Trexler. 

“Shucks! How do you know! Hid you ever 
try!” 

“N-o, but — ” 

“It ’s time you started in, then,” interrupted 
Sanson. “Of course you can’t expect to make 
the team this year, but you ’ll have a lot of fun 


TREXLER^S TRANSFORMATION 173 

playing with the scrub. Hustle up or we ’ll be 
late. ’ ’ 

So Trexler went, mainly because he didn’t ex- 
actly know how to refuse the boy he had come to 
like so much. But it was with a good deal of in- 
ward trepidation that he trailed after Frank to 
where Ranny Phelps, who captained the team, was 
chatting with Mr. Curtis’s younger brother, just 
home for the Easter holidays. He had a feeling 
that he was going to make an awful exhibition of 
himself, and that conviction was not lessened by 
the slight lifting of the eyebrows with which Ranny 
greeted Frank’s request that his friend be allowed 
to practise with the others. 

But out in the field, nervously adjusting a bor- 
rowed glove, Paul was conscious of an odd, tin- 
gling sensation altogether different from appre- 
hension. The day was typically April and fairly 
breathed of spring. Birds darted hither and 
thither, singing joyously. Beyond the low stone 
wall at one side the feathery outlines of a wild 
cherry, pale green, with touches of white blossoms 
just bursting into bloom, was etched against the 
sky in delicate tracery. Farther still, a man was 
plowing, and from the long straight furrows came 
that moist, fresh, homely smell of newly turned 
earth that one gets only in springtime. Out of 
the deep blue sky, flecked with fluffy, idly drifting 


174 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

clouds, the sun shone warm and caressing. From 
all about came the sound of quick, clear, eager 
voices, to which was presently added the crack of 
leather meeting wood, the thud of feet drumming 
the turf, and the duller sound of leather pounding 
against leather. 

There was something about it all that stirred the 
boy and sent the blood running like quick-silver 
through his veins, yet which made him feel curi- 
ously alone and out of it. Other springs had 
meant to him the beautiful awakening of nature, 
the return of the birds he loved, the charm of 
wood and stream and open country-side at its best. 
But somehow that failed to satisfy him as it had 
in the past. Vaguely he felt that something was 
missing, he could not say just what. A feeling 
of emulation stirred him, a desire to take his part 
in the clash and struggle and ceaseless competition 
from which, till now, he had held aloof. Admir- 
ingly, with a faint touch of envy, he watched Frank 
Sanson make a difficult one-hand stop with seem- 
ing ease. Why hadn’t he come out before and 
learned the game and how to uphold his end with 
the others! Was it too late even now! he won- 
dered. 

‘ ‘ Hi, Paul ! Get under this one ! ’ ’ 

The shout from Sanson roused Trexler to the 
realization that a fly was coming in his direction. 


TREXLER’S TRANSFORMATION 175 

He ran back a little, then forward. The ball 
seemed to be dropping with the speed of a can- 
non-shot, but he forced himself to meet it without 
shrinking. Thrusting up his hands awkwardly, 
he staggered a bit under its momentum, as he 
caught at it, and a burning sting tingled in the 
bare palm which had taken most of the impact. 
The ball, bouncing off, rolled to one side, and a 
laugh went round the field as he chased after it 
and threw it in. When he returned to his place 
PauPs face was crimson, but his lips were set in 
a stubborn line and he scarcely noticed the pain 
in his hand. 

will get the hang of it!^’ he muttered under 
his breath. ^ H ^11 learn to do it right if — if it takes 
all season 

He stuck to his position as long as any of the 
others, and on the way home, with some em- 
barrassment, he spoke to Frank of his determina- 
tion. The latter was delighted and offered to help 
him in any way he could. As a result, from that 
time forth the two rarely went anywhere without 
a baseball. Whenever there were a few minutes to 
spare they used them for throwing and catching. 
On the field, before and after the regular work, 
Frank knocked out flies or grounders, and in many 
other ways did his best to give his friend as much 
as possible of the practice he needed. 


176 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 

A baseball player isnT easily made to order. 
The normal boy seems almost to absorb his knowl- 
edge of the game through the pores of his skin, 
gaining proficiency by constant, never-ending 
practice that usually begins as soon as he is big 
enough to throw a ball. But much can be done 
by dogged persistence, and Paul Trexler had 
that quality to a marked degree. As the days 
passed, dust began to gather on his camera and 
on the cover of his book of bird photographs. In 
this new and strenuous occupation he found little 
time for the things which had formally absorbed 
him. He regretted the many long tramps he had 
planned, but somehow he failed to miss them as 
much as he expected. Each noticeable improve- 
ment in his game filled him with a deep, abiding 
satisfaction, surpassing even the delight which 
he used to feel on securing a fine photograph. The 
climax came that afternoon when he was allowed 
to play on the scrub in place of one of the fielders 
who had not shown up. Not only did he fail to 
make any mirth-provoking blunders, but he even 
put through one play that brought forth a sur- 
prised, approving comment from Ranny Phelps 
himself. 

donT know what you ’ve been doing to him, 
Frank, the latter said to Sanson, who passed on 
the remark afterward. “I Ve never seen any- 


TREXLER’S TRANSFORMATION 177 


body improve the way he has. That catch was nT 
anything wonderful, of course, but when he threw 
to third he used his head, which is more than a 
lot of fellows right here on the field ever think of 
doing. ’ ’ 

The latter part of the speech, especially, was 
typical of the handsome Ranleigh. He ran the 
ball-team as he did a good many other things, 
reaching decisions more often through impulse and 
prejudice than from a mature judgment. There 
could be no question of his knowledge of the game 
or his ability as a pitcher. The latter was really 
extraordinary for a fellow of his age and experi- 
ence, and this, perhaps, was what made him so in- 
tolerant of less gifted players. At all events, he 
had a little trick of sarcasm which did not endear 
him to those on whom it was exercised. Most fel- 
lows take the ordinary sort of ^‘calling down,’^ 
especially if it has been earned, with a fair amount 
of grace, but it rarely does any good to rub it in, as 
Ranny so often did. 

‘^You ’d think he was a little tin god on wheels 
the way he struts up and down, digging into the 
fellows in that uppish, sneering way,’’ Court Par- 
ker heatedly remarked one afternoon late in the 
season. ^^You might think he never made any 
errors himself. ’ ’ 

don’t suppose he really means anything by 


178 UNDER BOY, SCOUT COLORS 


it,’’ returned Dale Tompkins, rather deprecatingly. 
For some time that day he had been watching 
Phelps and wondering rather wistfully whether 
Ranny was ever going to entirely forget that im- 
pulsive flare-up of his so many months ago. For a 
long time, to be sure, there had been few signs of 
active animosity from the blond chap. It would be 
well nigh impossible for any boy to long maintain 
that excessive coldness toward a fellow with whom 
he was so often and so intimately thrown. Espe- 
cially since the beginning of baseball practice there 
had been a good deal of intercourse between them, 
but always Dale was conscious of a deep reserve 
looming up between them like some invisible, insur- 
mountable barrier. And there were times when he 
would have given the world to break that barrier 
down. 

Parker sniffed. ‘‘Then why does he do it? It 
only gets the fellows raw without doing a scrap 
of good. You ’re a great one to stand up for him. 
Tommy! He ’s treated you mean as dirt. 
Did n’t he promise to let you pitch in some of the 
games?” 

“Why, n-o; it wasn’t exactly a promise.” 

“It was the same thing. He made you think 
he was going to put you in, and all spring you ’ve 
worked your arm nearly off, pitching to the 
bunch. Then when a regular game came along 


TREXLER’S TRANSFORMATION 179 

he stepped into the box himself and hogged the 
whole thing nine innings. It ^s been the same ever 
since, except last week when yon went in for one 
miserable inning after we ^d won the game. I call 
that a — a — an insult. It looked as if he thought 
you were n T any good. ^ ’ 

Dale shrugged his shoulders. ‘ ‘ Maybe he does, ’ ^ 
he returned quietly. ‘^He ^s a lot better pitcher 
than I am.” 

‘‘Is he? Humph! He ’s nowhere near as 
steady, let me tell you. Wait till he gets up 
against a real team, and I should nT wonder a 
bit if he blew up. He did last year, and we mighty 
near lost the series. He canT stand being joshed, 
and Troop One is just the bunch to do it.” 

Dale laughed a little and set down his compan- 
ion’s disparaging remarks to temper rather than 
to any real belief in what he was saying. He had 
never seen Ranny pitch before this season, but he 
could not imagine him losing his superb control 
and “blowing up.” He would have given any- 
thing for a chance to pitch against Troop One, but 
he had long ago given up hoping, Ranny made 
it only too clear that he meant to keep that honor 
for himself, just as he had monopolized the pitch- 
ing in all the other games. Dale couldn’t quite 
make up his mind whether this was from a delib- 
erate desire to shut him out, or because the team 


180 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 


captain really lacked faith in his ability and was 
afraid to trust him. Feeling as he did toward the 
other — ^liking, admiring him still, almost in spite 
of himself, Tompkins rather hoped it was the lat- 
ter case. In either event, however, he was 
obliged to content himself with the cold comfort 
that with Ranleigh Phelps pitching his best Troop 
Five was practically certain to win. 

The inter-troop baseball series had been ar- 
ranged so that the two strongest teams were 
matched together on the concluding day. Both 
had won every game they had played so far, and 
the result this Saturday afternoon would decide 
the championship. 

Naturally there was a big crowd of spectators. 
Practically every boy in town was present, ready 
to root for his favorite team, and the grand stand 
was well filled with older enthusiasts. 

When Troop Five won the toss and spread out 
on the field. Dale Tompkins, with a faint sigh, 
dropped down on the bench he had ornamented 
for most of the season. Watching Ranny Phelps 
walking out to the mound, a wave of envy, pure 
and simple, swept over him. He wanted to pitch 
— desperately. At that moment he would have 
welcomed almost any contingency — even the un- 
thinkable '‘blowing up'’ that Court had predicted 
— that would give him his chance. He had done 


TEEXLER^S TRANSFORMATION 181 

practically nothing all the season, and it seemed 
unfair that the last game should come without 
giving him a single opportunity of showing his 
mettle. 

‘‘What ’s the use of trying at all if you never 
get a showT^ he thought disconsolately. 

But the mood did not last long. Dale was too 
keen a baseball fan not to become swiftly ab- 
sorbed in the game which meant so much to him- 
self and his brother scouts. There could be no 
question of Ranny’s fine form. For the first five 
innings not a hit was scored against him. To be 
sure, several players made first on various errors, 
but none got beyond third, and in the meantime 
Troop Five had scored two runs. 

“He ’s certainly some pitcher!’’ Tompkins re- 
marked rather wistfully to Paul Trexler, who had 
taken a seat beside him. ‘ ‘ Looks as if we had the 
game cinched.” 

“I hope so. If only he don’t — er — ^blow up — ” 

“Blow up!” interrupted Tompkins, sharply. 
“Does he act like it? You ’ve been listening to 
Court Parker’s rubbish, Paul. I never saw any 
fellow pitch a steadier game.” 

But though he had been swift to deny the possi- 
bility, Trexler ’s remark lingered in Dale’s mind, 
and almost unconsciously he began to watch for 
signs which might confirm it. The fellows that 


182 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 


composed the rival team were rather older than 
the average scout and of a certain rough-and- 
ready type which made their joshing apt to carry 
more sting than that sort of thing usually does. 
So far, however, there had been little in the 
pitcher ^s manner or behavior for them to take 
hold of, and the stream of commonplace chatter 
and joking seemed to atfect Ranny as little as wa- 
ter does a duck. He took it carelessly, with now 
and then an apt retort which turned the laugh 
against the other fellows, and throughout the sixth 
and seventh innings his work continued to show 
much of the smooth perfection it had displayed 
from the first. 

It was in the beginning of the eighth that 
Tompkins’s face began to grow a little troubled. 
Ranny had several rather noticeable mannerisms, 
which were especially apt to appear on the flood- 
tide of success. Whether deliberately or not, he 
had hitherto suppressed them, but now he seemed 
momentarily to relax his vigilance. 

He had struck out the first batter, and as the 
second stepped up to face him the pitcher paused, 
swept the grand stand with a leisurely glance, 
and then tossed back his head in an odd, rather 
affected gesture before starting to wind up. The 
gesture had probably originated on the gridiron, 
where hair is worn rather long and is apt to trail 


TREXLER^S TRANSFORMATION 183 

into one's eyes; here it looked a bit foolish, and 
instantly one of the opposition, who was coaching 
at first base, a red-headed fellow named Conners, 
seized upon it. 

‘^See him shake his mane, fellows!" he yelled 
in a shrill falsetto. Don't let him scare you, 
Blakie ; he 's tame ! ' ' 

‘^He 'll he the goat, all right, before we get 
done with him, ' ' chimed in another. 

Ranny hesitated an instant in his swing, bit 
his lips, and then put the ball over. It was wide, 
and, as he caught the return, there was an angry 
flush on his handsome face. 

‘‘Don't he blush sweetly?" shrilled Conners, 
dancing about off first. “He 'd make a peach of 
a girl!" 

Ranny wound up hastily and pitched again. It 
was a straight, speedy ball, but in his annoyance 
he must have forgotten that this was just the 
sort Blake liked. The latter met it squarely with 
a clean crack that brought Dale's heart into his 
mouth and jerked him to his feet to watch with 
tight lips and despairing eyes the soaring flight 
of the white sphere over the diamond and on — on 
— seemingly to the very limits of the outfield ! 


CHAPTER XVII 


DALEYS CHANCE 

T O Tompkins, watching with bated breath and 
clenched fists, it seemed as if the ball would 
never drop. Two of the fielders were running 
swiftly backward, but there was n’t a chance in a 
hundred of their catching it. Bat flung aside and 
toe-clips digging into the ground, Blake was speed- 
ing toward first. Before the ball hit the turf he 
had rounded the sack. By the time Pete Oliver 
had recovered it and lined it in, the runner was 
panting on second. 

^^Got him going! Got him going!” shrieked 
Conners, delightedly. ‘‘Get after it. Peanut. 
Smash it on the nose and bring in Blakie !” 

His team-mates added their jubilations to his, 
and a bedlam of shrill advice, mingled with fresh 
joshing, ensued. Ranny’s eyes flashed with ill- 
concealed anger, and he gripped his under lip 
tight between his teeth. His first ball was good, 
but the batter fell on the second with all his might. 
Crack! A gasp went up from the watchers on the 
bench. Smack! The gasp merged into a yell of 

184 


DALEYS CHANCE 


185 


delight as the ball landed squarely in Frank San- 
son’s mitt and stuck there. The force of the im- 
pact nearly upset the short-stop, hut he recovered 
swiftly and lined the horsehide straight into the 
outstretched hands of Court Parker, astride of 
third. There was a flashing downward motion of 
those hands, and the sliding runner was tagged, 
his fingers not six inches from the sack. 

To the shout of delight that went up, Dale Tomp- 
kins contributed rather more than his share. 
Leaping and capering in front of the bench, it 
seemed as if he could n’t express his overwhelming 
relief at the unexpected ending of the inning and 
their escape from a dangerous situation. He 
thumped Sanson on the hack and poked Court in 
the ribs joyously. But when the first excited en- 
thusiasm had passed he began to think of the in- 
ning yet to be played and to wonder how Eanny 
would get through it. Surely there was time to 
pull himself together, the boy thought. He had n ’t 
really lost control of himself except for a moment. 

With the opening of the ninth it looked as if 
Tompkins was right. Troop Five had failed to 
score further, but Eanny entered the box appar- 
ently as cool and self-contained as he had been 
at the beginning of the game. Quietly and effi- 
ciently he took the first batter in hand, and in spite 
of the joshing that at once began on the other 


186 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


side, he lured the boy into popping up a little in- 
field fly that was easily smothered by the second 
baseman. 

The next fellow up, however, sent out a long fly 
to right-field which Blair unaccountably mutfed. 
Instantly the shrill, nagging voice of ‘‘Red’’ Con- 
ners pierced the din. 

“Up in a balloon!” he yelled. “Little Lam- 
bie ’s ready for the stable. He ’s done. I knew 
he couldn’t stand up before a regular team once 
we got his number. ’ ’ 

Irritating as a mosquito’s buzz, the strident 
voice rasped Dale Tompkins’s spirit like a file, 
and a rush of sympathy for the pitcher swept over 
him. He knew how annoying it is to be blamed for 
another’s fault, and the error was distinctly 
Blair’s for muffing that fly. If only Phelps 
wouldn’t pay any attention to the nagging! He 
had only to put out two more men and win the 
game. Surely he must realize that the fellows 
didn’t mean anything they said; that they were 
only trying — 

He caught his breath with a swift, anxious in- 
take as the ball left Ranny’s fingers and an in- 
stant later went sailing over the infield. It was 
a clean hit and brought forth a roar of delight 
from Troop One’s adherents, who at once re- 
doubled their efforts to tease the angry pitcher. 


DALE’S CHANCE 


187 


It wasn’t baseball, in its better sense, nor did 
it show the real scout spirit, but it was human 
nature. Seeing the game slipping from them, they 
took the only way they had been able to discover 
to turn the tables. Ranny, plainly furious, 
pitched hastily to the next batter and hit him in 
the arm. The bases were filled, with only one out. 

‘^They ’ve rattled him, all right,” said the re- 
gretful voice of Paul Trexler at Tompkins’s el- 
bow. ‘ * Great Scott ! He can ’t be going to stick it 
out!’^ 

For a moment it looked that way. Flushed and 
furious, his snapping eyes sweeping the circle of 
grinning faces, Ranny stood motionless for a mo- 
ment or two in the middle of the diamond. He 
even toed the slab and took a signal from Ted 
Macllvaine. Then, of a sudden, his arm dropped 
to his side, and he stalked across the infield toward 
the bench. By the time he reached it his face was 
white, save where the grip of teeth had left little 
crimson dents in his under lip. His level, almost 
hostile, glance fixed Dale Tompkins coldly. 

‘‘Go in, Tompkins,” he said curtly, and tossed 
him the ball. 

Dale caught it instinctively, and, scrambling to 
his feet, pulled otf his sweater mechanically. His 
chance had come, but somehow he did not want it 
now. He would infinitely rather have had Ranny 


188 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


keep Ms head and his control and finish the game 
he had started off so well. The hurt and shame 
in that white face smote on him with a sense of 
physical pain, made him feel in a curious, in- 
volved fashion as if he were in some manner re- 
sponsible for the humiliation of his hero. 

A moment later all this vanished from his mind 
as he crossed the diamond, his heart beating un- 
evenly, every sense concentrated in the task be- 
fore him. He was greeted by a burst of joshing 
from Conners and the others, but he scarcely heard 
it. Quite without self-consciousness as he was, 
the remarks of the crowd, with most of whom he 
was on friendly terms, meant nothing to him. It 
was merely an obvious attempt to rattle him to 
which he paid no heed, so intent was he on gaging 
the boy who stood, bat in hand, a little to one side 
of the plate. 

Tompkins had warmed up a little before the 
game, and now, after throwing a few to Mac- 
Ilvaine, he found the plate and nodded to the 
batter to resume his place. All the afternoon he 
had been sizing up the different batters, noting 
as well as he could the strength and weakness of 
each one. He thought he knew the sort of ball 
Jack Dillon could not hit safely, and promptly he 
proceeded to send it up. 

In that very instant something in the fellow’s 


DALE’S CHANCE 


189 


face told him that he had blundered. His heart 
leaped with the crack of leather meeting wood; 
he caught his breath almost with a sob as the ball 
whizzed past his vainly reaching arm. There was 
no answering thud behind him. Bob Gibson had 
missed ! Heartsick, he saw the runner shoot down 
from third and cross the plate. Close at his heels, 
it seemed, the fellow behind him rounded the sack 
and started home. Suddenly he doubled back, and 
Dale realized with a gasp of thankfulness that 
Gardner had nipped that second run with a fine 
throw to the plate from center-field. 

He was trembling a bit as he caught the ball 
from Macllvaine and moved slowly backward, 
turning it nervously in his hands. There was a 
sick, sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. 
All about him the opposition were yelling joy- 
ously as if it were only a question of minutes be- 
fore the game could be counted theirs. 

^‘Another easy mark!” shrilled Conners. 
‘‘We Ve got him going, too. One good single, 
Irish, and we take the lead. Come over here, 
Blakie, and coach. I ’m up next.” 

Dale brought his teeth down hard and his jaw 
squared. He ’d show Eed Conners who was easy. 
Stepping into the box, he met the confident grin 
of Koddy Thorpe. This time there could be no 
mistake. He knew Koddy ’s game through and 


190 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

through. His eyes dropped to where Macllvaine 
crouched, giving a signal from behind his mitt. 
He shook his head slightly, and Bob, with some 
reluctance, changed the signal for another. Dale 
pitched suddenly, and Thorpe, swinging with all 
his strength to meet the sort of ball he thought was 
coming, missed, with ludicrous dismay. 

He fouled the second one, and then let two go 
by. Finally he missed again, fooled by a sudden 
change of pace and a slow ball when he had ex- 
pected speed. A cheer went up from his team- 
mates that still further heartened Tompkins. 

‘‘Who ^s an easy mark now. Red?’’ taunted 
Frank Sanson, pounding his glove delightedly. 
“Here ’s where you get yours, too.” 

“I should worry!” retorted Conners, dancing 
to the plate with every sign of confidence. ‘ ‘ That 
was only a fluke; it won’t last.” 

Dale’s eyes narrowed a bit as he surveyed the 
grinning, freckled face before him. Ordinarily, 
he and Red were on good enough terms, but at this 
moment he felt a slow, smoldering anger against 
the fellow who, he felt, had been the main cause of 
forcing Ranny out of the box. “Here ’s where I 
even up,” he muttered. 

He took Bob’s signal, and promptly, yet with- 
out apparent haste, he pitched. The ball left his 
fingers and whistled over with a slight inswerve. 


BALERS CHANCE 191 

Conners swung his bat fiercely, but encountered 
nothing but empty air. 

‘‘One!’’ muttered Tompkins, under his breath. 
“Two more, now — just two more!” 

The next was a ball, and Conners let it pass. 
Then came a slow one delivered with a swing and 
snap that fooled the batter into striking before 
it was well within his reach. As he regained his 
balance he scowled slightly and shook his head. 
The grin still stretched his lips, but it had turned 
into a grimace. 

Dale’s heart began to pound. Over and over 
again he was saying to himself: “One more! 
Only one more ! I must get him — I ’ve to !” 

Silence had fallen on the field. The batter’s 
team-mates had left off their gibing. It seemed 
as if every fellow gathered about the edges of 
the diamond was holding his breath. 

Dale’s right hand drew back slowly, and for an 
instant he cuddled the ball under his chin. Then, 
like a flash, his arm shot forward and a gray 
shadow whizzed through the air. 

The ball was high — too high, many a breathless 
onlooker thought at first. But suddenly it flashed 
downward across Conner’s shoulders. Too late 
the batter saw it drop and brought his bat around. 
There was a swish, a thud — and the umpire ’s voice 
was drowned in the shrill yell of relaxing tension 


192 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 

that split the throats of the victorious team as they 
made a rush for Tompkins, standing in the middle 
of the diamond. 

Sanson and Bob Gibson reached him first, but 
the others were not far behind. Thumping, 
pounding, poking him in the ribs and executing 
around him an impromptu war-dance, they swept 
Dale toward the bench, jabbering excitedly the 
while. In a happy sort of daze the boy heard the 
hearty congratulations of Mr. Curtis. Then, when 
the throng had spread out a little, he suddenly 
found himself face to face with Eanleigh Phelps. 

For a second there was an embarrassed silence ; 
then the blond chap put out his hand. 

‘‘You did mighty well, Tompkins,’’ he said, with 
a touch of constraint in his manner. “I wish — ” 
He paused an instant, and a faint color crept into 
his face. “ I ’d just like you to know, ’ ’ he went on 
rapidly, “that I haven’t kept you out of the box 
all season because — because of — ^wanting to take 
all the pitching myself. I— I — did n ’t think you ’d 
make good. I was wrong, of course. I — I ’m 
sorry it ’s too late to — prove it to you. ’ ’ 

That was all. Without waiting for a reply, he 
turned away. But Dale’s face glowed. Somehow 
those brief words from Eanleigh meant more to 
him than the exuberant congratulations of all the 
others. 


CHAPTER XVni 


A QUESTION OF MONEY 

W ITH the intertroop baseball series a thing 
of the past, Sanson and Trexler promptly 
turned their attention to swimming They had 
already been out to the lake several times, but with 
baseball practise almost every day, it had not 
been possible to spend very much time there. 
Now, however, they both took advantage of every 
free afternoon, and before a great while Paul 
emerged from that first hopeless, helpless state 
when it seemed as if he were never going to be 
able even to support himself in the water. He was 
still far from being a good swimmer, but at least 
he could behold the miraculous ease and skill of 
the other fellows without a feeling of despondent 
envy. 

Frank Sanson naturally made much quicker 
progress. Knowing the rudiments, he did not, like 
Paul, have to start at the very beginning. His 
strength and endurance, too, were greater than 
his friend’s, and he had practically none of Trex- 
ler ’s nervous timidity to combat. All he needed 

193 


194 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


was practise, and he was not long graduating from 
the novice class. 

The latter was uncommonly large this year. It 
was the first time the boys had had the freedom 
of Crystal Lake, and practically every scout who 
did not know how to swim seemed bent on learn- 
ing before the summer camp started. Many of 
the enthusiasts went out there every afternoon, 
while Saturdays always saw a big crowd, most of 
whom brought their lunch and made a day of it. 

As a matter of course, since swimming could not 
very well be indulged in all the time, there devel- 
oped a great variety of scout sports and activities. 
Often a scoutmaster or two showed up, and by 
dint of a little suggestion would introduce among 
the purely entertaining games one designed to test 
the boys^ ability at signaling or first aid, or his 
knowledge of tracking and trailing and woodcraft 
generally. 

The system was entirely successful. Fellows 
who lacked the ambition or push to acquire these 
important details of scouting — and there are al- 
ways such in every troop — found themselves, to 
their surprise, absorbing the knowledge through 
the medium of a game or competition. More often 
than not they discovered that it wasn’t so hard 
or uninteresting as they supposed, and in many 
cases real enthusiasm developed. Moreover, 


A QUESTION OF MONEY 195 

members of the different troops came to know and 
understand each other in a way which would 
have been impossible without this close and con- 
stant companionship. Hitherto they had kept 
pretty much to themselves, each boy traveling 
mainly with his own crowd and generally meeting 
the others as opponents on gridiron or diamond. 

Now unexpected friendships developed. Paul 
Trexler, who had revived much of his interest in 
bird study, was amazed to find a kindred spirit in 
Jim Crancher of Troop One. This big, rather 
rough-and-ready, chap of whom Paul had always 
stood somewhat in awe, proved to be quite as keen 
as himself about birds and nature generally, and 
the two had many a pleasant and profitable tramp 
through the woods together. There were many 
other similar cases, and before long it was no un- 
common thing to see boys who had hitherto been 
rivals eating their lunch together and chatting inti- 
mately about what they would do at camp. 

The latter subject became more and more a topic 
of interest and discussion. For the first time the 
various troops were planning to join forces in a 
common camp, and for months a committee of 
scoutmasters had been at work on the details. 
Funds for equipment had been secured by the local 
council, but the question of a proper location 
threatened to prove a serious difficulty. Dozens of 


196 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


sites had been investigated and found lacking in 
some important particular, either in quantity or 
quality of water, in woods not extensive enough 
for hiking, and the like. Most of the really attrac- 
tive lakes in that part of the State were lined with 
summer cottages and bungalows, while the wilder, 
mountainous sections were too inaccessible to be 
wisely considered in a camp of this nature. 

The boys were beginning to grow seriously wor- 
ried when suddenly the rumor swept through town 
that a novel and totally unexpected solution of the 
difficulty had presented itself. It was said that 
the committee had been offered the use of a large 
tract of land in the southern part of the State 
bordering on the ocean. Such a situation had 
never been even remotely considered, and the ex- 
citement of the boys, many of whom had never 
seen the ocean, rose to fever-heat at the enthrall- 
ing possibility. 

At the earliest possible moment Troop Five in a 
body hurried around to obtain further details from 
Mr. Curtis, only to discover that he had gone with 
other members of the committee to look the ground 
over. He was away for three days, returning the 
afternoon of the troop meeting, from which, it is 
perhaps needless to say, not a scout was absent. 

‘‘You Ve heard about it, I see,’’ the scoutmaster 
remarked as he surveyed the line of eager, bright- 


A QUESTION OF MONEY 197 

eyed boys before him. ‘‘Well, I don’t know that 
we can employ our time better to-night than in 
going over the camp proposition thoroughly and 
finding out what you fellows think of the sit- 
uation. ’ ’ 

“Is it going to be at — at that place on the ocean, 
sir?” put in one of the boys. 

“Yes; we ’ve practically decided to accept Mr. 
Thornton’s offer. The distance was the only 
drawback ; it ’s almost a hundred miles from here, 
but I think we can get around that. Everything 
else is ideal. The land is a wooded point of 
six or seven hundred acres. One side faces the 
ocean, the^ other a wide, sheltered bay that runs 
inland several miles, joining finally with a small 
river. The whole point is rather high ground, 
with stretches of sand-dunes on the ocean side, 
and wooded with scrub-oak and stunted pines. 
Back of that, the land is mostly covered with sec- 
ond-growth timber, and rises gradually to an ele- 
vation called Lost Mine Hill — ” 

“What ’s that, sir?” interrupted Court Parker, 
eagerly. 

The scoutmaster smiled. “At the time of the 
Eevolution there was said to be a copper-mine 
located thereabouts, the entrance to which has 
since been lost track of. At least, that ’s what one 
of the old residents told us.” 


198 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


More than one boy’s eyes sparkled. There was 
a fascination in the mere name. 

‘‘Whether it ’s true or not, I have no idea,” con- 
tinued Mr. Curtis. “To return to the camp. 
This would be located on the bay side of the point, 
facing the village, which is over a mile distant and 
practically the only settlement around. The 
beach shelves gradually here, making an ideal 
place for swimming, and there are three or four 
small islands about a quarter of a mile from shore. 
The fishing in the bay is fine, and there are lots 
of crabs and eels in the coves and inlets farther up. 
We should have to do a lot of clearing out, of 
course, for the undergrowth is pretty thick, but 
that would be more fun than otherwise.” 

A long, concerted sigh went up from the listen- 
ing scouts. Ocean and islands and a lost copper- 
mine seemed too entrancing a combination to be 
possible. Several boys began to ask questions 
at once, but stopped at a gesture from Mr. Cur- 
tis. 

“One at a time, fellows,” he reminded them. 
“The only practicable way of getting there. Bob, 
is to hire an auto-truck and motor down to Clam 
Cove, crossing over in a motor-boat. We have n’t 
enough tents or equipment to accommodate all the 
fellows at once, so we Ve decided to divide in two 
or three relays of say thirty-five boys to a group, 


A QUESTION OF MONEY 199 

each crowd to stay two weeks. The truck could 
make the trip in seven or eight hours, and by 
starting early could take one bunch down and 
bring another back the same day, thus consider- 
ably lessening the expense.’^ 

‘‘How much do you think that will be, sir?’’ 
asked Dale Tompkins, quickly, an anxious wrinkle 
in his forehead. 

“About five dollars a week for board and a dol- 
lar extra for transportation. ’ ’ 

The troubled expression deepened in Dale ’s face, 
and he scarcely heard the various other questions 
and answers that followed. Six dollars a week — 
twelve in all! There would be other necessities, 
too, in the way of clothes fit for camp. He had no 
shorts, for instance, or decent sneakers. Fifteen 
dollars would barely cover the outlay ; and though 
he had worked hard for two months at least, he 
had little more than half of the amount saved. 
Where was the rest to come from? 

When Mr. Curtis, with pencil and paper in hand, 
started at the head of the line to note down what 
boys were going, Tompkins roused himself and 
listened with a touch of envy to the ready answers : 
“Yes, sir!^^ “You can count me in every time, 
sir!” “Can’t a fellow stay longer than two 
weeks?” or, from Larry Wilks, “No, sir; I ’m 
going up to Maine as soon as school is over.” 


200 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


Not one of them seemed troubled by the problem 
which worried him. 

^‘How about you, Dale?’^ asked the scoutmaster, 
after jotting do^vn Vedder’s prompt acquiescence. 
— don^t know, sir.’’ 

^‘What ’s the trouble? Want to talk it over at 
home?” said the scoutmaster, dropping his voice. 

‘‘N-o, sir. They ’ll let me go all right,” an- 
swered Dale, adding, in a still lower tone, ‘‘only I 
— I ’m not sure about the — money.” 

Mr. Curtis nodded understandingly. “I see. 
Well, there will be at least two weeks before even 
the first crowd goes. We ’ll have to get together 
and think up ways and means.” 

He passed on, leaving Dale not very greatly en- 
couraged. It would be like Mr. Curtis to invent 
some work about his place whereby the scout might 
earn the required amount, but Dale was deter- 
mined to stay at home rather than take advantage 
of the scoutmaster in that way. 

“He ’s done enough for me already,” the boy 
said to himself with a stubborn squaring of the 
jaws. “If I can’t raise the funds some other way, 
I ’ll just have to go without camp. ’ ’ 

That night he lay long awake, trying to think 
of some possible method, but his efforts were not 
very successful. He still had his paper-route, but 
the money from that went mostly into the family 


A QUESTION OF MONEY 201 

treasury. He might, and probably would, get 
some odd jobs during the next two weeks, but 
there was only grass cutting, now, or weeding 
gardens, and neither of these chores was particu- 
larly well paid in Hillsgrove. 

On the whole the outlook was distinctly discour- 
aging, and for the next few days Dale had a 
struggle to maintain his usual cheerfulness. For 
months he had looked forward to camp as the 
supreme culmination of a more than usually happy 
year. 

‘‘It doesn’t seem as if I could give it up!” he 
muttered rebelliously at the end of a day which 
had brought him just twenty cents for a laborious 
weeding job. “Oh, gee! If I ’d only started to 
save for it sooner, I — ” He broke otf and bit his 
lips. Presently a crooked smile struggled de- 
fiantly through the gloom. “Oh, thunder!” he 
exclaimed whimsically. “Quit your grouching. 
Dale Tompkins. If you ’re going to let a little 
matter like earning ten dollars stand between you 
and a corking good time, you ’re no kind of a scout 
at all. ’ ’ 


CHAPTEE XIX 


THE ACCIDENT 

I T was on Thursday morning that Mr. Curtis 
sent for Dale, and in spite of his suspicions the 
boy brightened a little as he entered the scout- 
master’s study and noticed the smile on the lat- 
ter’s face. 

‘‘Well, Dale,” began Mr. Curtis, cheerily, “I ’ve 
been puzzling my brains over that problem of 
yours ever since Monday night, and yesterday the 
answer was fairly thrust on me.” 

The boy pricked up his ears doubtfully. ‘ ‘ What 
is it, sir?” he asked quickly. 

“Bird-houses. You ’re our prize carpenter, and 
I know you made a number of them in the spring. 
Now — ” 

“Bird-houses!” interrupted the boy, incredu- 
lously. “Bird-houses at the end of June! Why, 
who — I ’ll bet you ’re making — ” 

He broke off abruptly, biting his lips. Mr. Cur- 
tis did not seem offended. In fact, he merely 
chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. 

“No, it ’s not that,” he said quickly. “I ’ve 
202 


THE ACCIDENT 


203 


nothing at all to do with it. I had an inquiry this 
morning from some one who — a — probably knows 
it ^s a scout specialty for a quotation on a number 
of rather elaborate houses that are wanted at 
once. There ’s the list.^’ 

Dazedly Dale took the paper and stared at it. 
It was a type-written list describing, with some 
detail, the eight bird-houses desired. Two of 
them, for martin colonies, called for something 
large and rather elaborate. All were distinctly of 
a more expensive class than was usually in de- 
mand. Even without figuring, he could see that 
his time alone, were it possible to finish the work 
inside of two weeks, would be worth over ten dol- 
lars. In spite of his doubts, his eyes brightened 
as he looked up at the scoutmaster. 

*‘It ’s a corking order he exclaimed. ‘‘It 
would put me all to the good. But I can ’t under- 
stand why anybody would want bird-houses after 
the birds have all nested for the season. Who are 
they for, sirT’ 

“That I can^t tell you,’’ returned Mr. Curtis. 
“Now don’t go off at half-cock,” he added quickly, 
as Dale’s lips parted impulsively. “I ’ve told you 
I had nothing to do with it in any way. The in- 
quiry this morning was as much of a surprise to 
me as it is to you, but just because the person 
doesn’t wish to be known is no reason why you 


204 UNDEB BOY SCOUT COLOBS 


should balk at the offer. There may be any num- 
ber of reasons. At least there ’s no touch of 
charity about it. You ’ll be giving full value re- 
ceived, won ’t you ? And you certainly build better 
houses than any other boy in the troop.” 

For a second Dale hesitated, torn between a last 
lingering doubt and a natural eagerness to snatch 
at this wonderful opportunity. ‘‘You mean you 
— advise me to accept?” he asked slowly. 

“ I do. I see no reason why you should n ’t treat 
it as a regular business proposition and make out 
your estimate at once. ’ ’ 

Dale hesitated no longer. The whole thing still 
seemed odd, but after all, as Mr. Curtis had said, 
he had nothing to do with that. He was still fur- 
ther reassured when he went over the specifica- 
tions again, seated at a corner of the scoutmaster’s 
writing-table. The very detail with which these 
had been made out pointed to a distinct and defi- 
nite want, not to a charity meant to give work to 
an unknown scout. 

For two hours the boy sat making rough plans, 
measuring, figuring, and calculating with the ut- 
most care. He conscientiously put his estimate as 
low as he possibly could, and when word came next 
day to go ahead he plunged into the work blithely, 
determined to give the unknown good value for 
his money. 


THE ACCIDENT 


205 


Fortunately, school was over and Dale could 
give practically all his time to the undertaking. 
He took a chance and registered for the first two 
weeks at camp, but it was a close call, and the 
houses were delivered to Mr. Curtis only the very 
morning before the party was scheduled to start. 
That afternoon he had the money, and there was 
no happier boy in Hillsgrove as he hastily sought 
the scout store at the Y. M. C. A. and made his 
necessary purchases. 

It was at the same place that the crowd gathered 
with bag and baggage next morning at six o ’clock. 
Early as it was, the majority were on hand before 
the appointed hour, so there was no delay in get- 
ting off. Seats had been built along each side of 
the big motor-truck, and the moment suitcases and 
duffle-bags were stowed away beneath them, there 
was a scramble to get aboard. 

Tompkins found himself presently squeezed in 
near the rear, next to Court Parker, with Sanson, 
Bob Gibson, and Paul Trexler near by. Most of 
the older fellows were farther front, and Mr. Cur- 
tis sat next to the driver. It was a perfect day, 
clear, sparkling, cloudless, and as the truck rum- 
bled out of Hillsgrove and started southward 
along the fine state road the boys were in high 
spirits. Soon some one started up a song, and 
from one familiar air they passed to another, let- 


206 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


ting off a good deal of steam in that fashion. A 
lot more was got rid of by practising troop yells, 
and when the truck began to pass between fields of 
waving yellow grain, they found amusement in 
seeing how many of the laboring farmers would 
answer their shouts and hand-wavings. 

But it was n’t possible, of course, to keep up this 
sort of thing for the entire journey, and after a 
couple of hours they settled down to a quieter key. 
Naturally, the most interesting subject of discus- 
sion was the camp, and presently, in response to 
a number of requests, Mr. Curtis moved back to 
the middle of the truck to tell the crowd, that in- 
cluded many boys from other troops, all he knew 
about it. When he had described in detail the sit- 
uation and its advantages and explained the ar- 
rangement of the camp which three other scout- 
masters and a number of the other boys had gone 
down ahead to lay out, he paused for a moment or 
two. 

‘‘There ’s just one thing, fellows,” he went on 
presently “that we Ve got to be mighty careful 
about. The land is owned by John Thornton, the 
banker, whose wonderful country-place, twenty 
miles this side of Clam Cove, you may have heard 
about. It seems that he ’s had a great deal of 
trouble with boys trespassing, starting fires in the 


THE ACCIDENT 


207 


woods, injuring the shrubbery and rare trees, and 
even trapping game. It ’s possible, of course, 
though I should hate to believe it, that some of this 
damage has been done by scouts, as he seems to 
think. At all events, he is very much opposed to 
the movement, which he contends merely gives 
boys a certain freedom and authority to roam the 
woods, — ^building fires, cutting trees, and having a 
thoughtless good time generally, — without teach- 
ing them anything of real value. 

‘‘Humph!’’ sniffed Sherman Ward, indignantly. 
“Then why has he offered us this camping-site?” 

“He hasn’t offered it to us as scouts. He ’s 
loaned it to Captain Chalmers, who is a very close 
friend, and he as much as says that our behavior 
there will merely prove his point about the useless- 
ness of scouting. Of course, he ’s dead wrong, 
but he ’s a mighty hard man to convince, and we ’ll 
have to toe the mark all the time. I don’t mean 
it ’s going to interfere with our having all the fun 
that ’s going, but we ’ll have to take a little more 
pains than usual to have a model camp. There 
mustn’t be any careless throwing about of rub- 
bish. In getting fire- wood we ’ll have to put into 
practice all we ’ve learned about the right sort of 
forestry. When away from camp on hikes or for 
any other purpose, we must always conduct our- 


208 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 

selves as good scouts and remember that it ’s not 
only our own reputation we ’re upholding, but that 
of the whole order.” 

When he had gone back to his place in front 
there were a few indignant comments on Mr. 
Thornton and his point of view, but for the most 
part the boys took it sensibily, with many a deter- 
mined tightening of the lips. 

guess he won’t get anything on us,” com- 
mented Ted Macllvaine, decidedly. ‘‘It ’ll be 
rather fun, fellows, making him back down.” 

There was an emphatic chorus of agreement, but 
little further discussion, for the question of lunch 
was beginning to be pressing. Though barely 
eleven, boxes and haversacks were produced and 
the next half-hour enlivened with one of the most 
satisfying of occupations. Toward noon they 
stopped at a small town for “gas.” WTien the 
car started on again, there was a pleasant sense 
of excitement in the realization that another couple 
of hours ought to bring them to Clam Cove. 

The country had changed greatly from that 
around Hillsgrove. It looked wilder, more un- 
settled. Instead of fields of ripening grain, or- 
chards, or acres of truck-gardens, the road was 
bordered by long stretches of woods and tangled 
undergrowth. The farm-houses were farther 
apart and less pretentious. There was even a 



"riio car eraslicd into ilK* 


'wcatlicr-Avoni 


railin <T of tli(‘ 





s 


THE ACCIDENT 


211 


faint tang of salt in the air. At length, from the 
summit of an elevation, Mr. Curtis pointed out a 
distant hill showing hazily blue on the horizon. 

‘‘That’s Lost Mine Hill, fellows!” he said. 
“From there, it ’s not more than three miles to our 
stopping-place. ’ ’ 

Eagerly they stared and speculated as the truck 
clattered down the incline, its horn sounding rau- 
cously. At the bottom there was a straight level 
stretch of a thousand feet or so, with a bridge mid- 
way along it. It was sandy here in the hollow, 
and the truck had made little more than half the 
distance to the bridge when all at once, with a 
weird wailing of the siren, a great gray car shot 
into sight around a curve beyond. 

It was going very fast. Dale and Court, hang- 
ing over the side of the truck together, had barely 
time to note the trim chauffeur behind the wheel 
and a man and woman in the luxurious tonneau 
when the explosion of a blow-out, sharp as a pis- 
tol-shot, smote on their startled senses. The car 
leaped, quivered, skidded in the loose sand, 
crashed into the weather-worn railing of the 
bridge, hung suspended for an instant above the 
stream, and then toppled over and out of sight. 
There was a tremendous splash, a great spurt of 
flying water, and then — silence ! 


CHAPTER XX 


FIRST AID 

D ale never knew just how he got out of the 
truck. Gripped by the horror and sudden- 
ness of the accident, his mind was a blank until he 
found himself running over the bridge amid a 
throng of other hurrying scouts. A moment later 
he was pressed close to the unbroken portion of 
the railing, and, staring down, caught a glimpse 
of the gray car upturned in the sluggish waters of 
the stream. 

The car had turned turtle, and the great wheels, 
still spinning slowly, showed above the surface 
almost to their hubs. The water was roiled and 
muddy; bubbles and a little steam rose about the 
forward part of the car. Ten feet away floated a 
chauffeur’s cap. Nearer at hand, a light lap-robe, 
billowed by the air caught underneath, seemed for 
an instant to be the clothing of one of the passen- 
gers. But Dale swiftly understood its real nature, 
and with a choke he realized that the people were 
pinned beneath the car. All this came to him in 
a flash; then, as Mr. Curtis and the foremost of 
212 


FIEST AID 


213 


the scouts plunged down into the wide, hut shallow, 
stream, he turned suddenly about and raced back 
to the truck. 

It wasn’t the sick sense of horror that moved 
him. All at once he had remembered the troop 
first-aid kit, which he himself had carefully 
stowed away under one of the long seats. They 
would need it badly, and he did not think any of 
the others had stopped to get it. There would 
be plenty of them without him to lift the car. 

Panting to the side of the deserted truck. Dale 
leaped into the back, and, dropping to his knees, 
tore and dug among the close-packed baggage like 
a terrier seeking rats. Swiftly he unearthed the 
square, japanned case and dragged it forth. 
When he reached the bridge again, the scene had 
altogether changed. Waist-deep in the water, a 
line of scouts was holding up the heavy car, whose 
weight was testified to by their straining muscles 
and tense attitudes. Already the two passengers 
had been dragged forth. The one whom at first 
they had taken to be a woman had been carried to 
the bank, and Dale saw, with a throb of pity, that 
she was a girl of not more than fifteen. Two 
scouts supported the limp figure of the man, and 
as Dale ran around the end of the bridge and down 
the bank a shout from Sherman Ward announced 
the discovery of the chauffeur. 


214 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

‘‘Get him out quickly!” tersely ordered Mr. 
Curtis. “You and Cruncher look after him; you 
know what to do. Bob and Ranny see to the girl ! 
I dl take care of this man. Court, hustle for the 
first-aid kit ; it ^s under — Oh, you Ve got it ! 
Good boy. Dale. Open it upon the bank and get 
out the ammonia. Then be ready with some band- 
ages when I call for them. Frank, take one or 
two fellows and bring six or eight blankets here 
from the truck.” 

Under the cool, dominating influence of the 
scoutmaster the situation speedily resolved itself 
into one of orderly method. The three patients 
were stretched out on blankets on the bank, 
and only those scouts actively interested in bring- 
ing them around were allowed in the vicinity. 
The others went back to the car and busied 
themselves with trying to right it — a rather fu- 
tile undertaking, but it kept them out of the 
way. 

The girl was the first to respond to treatment, 
but the older man opened his eyes not long after- 
ward. While both were dazed by the shock, they 
seemed to have escaped with no more serious in- 
juries than bruises. The chauffeur, however, was 
badly cut about the face and head, and Mr. Curtis 
himself superintended the work of Ward and 
Crancher in tying up and bandaging. When this 


FIRST AID 215 

was over he turned back to the other man, who was 
trying to get on his feet. 

‘‘Hadn’t you better lie quietly for a bit 
longer?” he asked quickly. “You ’ve been rather 
badly shaken up.” 

“Is Robert — all right?” asked the other, briefly, 
as he dropped back to- the ground again. 

“Practically. He ’s cut about the head, but 
we ’ve bandaged him up, and I think he ’ll be all 
right until we- can get him to a doctor. ’ ’ 

The man’s puzzled gaze wandered to the little 
group of scouts standing well to one side and 
then returned to Mr. Curtis’s face. “I don’t un- 
derstand how you’ came to be on the spot so 
promptly, ” he murmured. “Who — ” 

“My name is Curtis,” explained the scoutmas- 
ter, as the other paused. “I ’m taking a party of 
scouts from Hillsgrove down to camp on Great 
Bay. Our truck wasn’t a hundred feet away 
when you skidded. ’ ’ 

The older man raised his eyebrows. 

“Scouts!” he repeated. “Boy Scouts?” 
Again his glance swept the circle, taking in this 
time the prone figure of the chauffeur, whose head, 
swathed in workmanlike bandages, rested against 
a thin roll of blanket. “I understand,” he went 
on briefly. “I am very greatly indebted to you, 
Mr. Curtis. May I trouble you?” 


216 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

He extended his hand, and this time the scout- 
master did not hesitate to help him up. Together 
the two assisted the girl to her feet, and Mr. Curtis 
reached for a blanket, placing it carefully around 
her shoulders. 

Thank you,^’ she murmured shyly. She had 
recovered from her fright, and seemed none the 
worse for the accident. ‘‘Dad, if we could only 
get a car or something to take us home, ’ ’ she said 
pluckily. 

“Our truck isnT exactly comfortable,^’ sug- 
gested Mr. Curtis, “but I fancy it would be the 
quickest way. ’ ’ 

“Decidedly!” agreed the man. “The nearest 
house is two miles off, and my own place isn’t 
more than double that. But would n’t it be incon- 
veniencing you?” 

“Not a bit ! We have plenty of time ; and any- 
way, your man ought to have a doctor’s attention 
as soon as possible. The boys can wait here till 
the truck comes back.” 

Without further delay he motioned Ward and 
Crancher'to help the chauffeur and led the way to 
the truck. Full of interest and curiosity, the 
others watched them take their places, saw the 
engine started, and remained staring after the 
lumbering vehicle until it had passed out of sight 
around the curve. Then began an eager discus- 


FIRST AID 


217 


sion of the whole affair, until finally some one sug- 
gested building a fire and drying out their wet 
clothes. The latter process was still going on 
when the truck returned, after nearly an hour^s 
absence, and Mr. Curtis leaped out. As he came 
up to the group he was smiling. 

“Who was it, sirT’ called several of the scouts 
at once. ‘ ‘ Did you find out ? ^ ’ 

“I did.’^ The scoutmaster’s smile deepened a 
little. “You can have three guesses.” 

There was a moment’s puzzled silence; then, 
“Mr. Thornton?” hazarded Court Parker, flip- 
pantly. 

“Not quite,” laughed Mr. Curtis; “only his 
brother and niece.” 

Parker gasped in surprise ; so did several others. 
Then a shout went up, and a volley of questions 
was poured at the scoutmaster. 

“Did you meet Mr. Thornton?” 

“Does he still think scouting isn’t any good?” 

“He failed to say,” returned Mr. Curtis, his 
eyes twinkling. “I hoped, of course, that he ’d 
fall on my neck and declare he was all wrong and 
that scouting was the most wonderful thing in 
the world. But apparently he isn’t that sort. 
There ’s no question, though, that he was favor- 
ably impressed, and with this good beginning I 
trust we can bring him around before camp is over. 


218 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

Pile in now, fellows. We ’re late already and 
must n’t waste any more time.” 

About an hour afterward they rumbled over a 
bridge, ran along a rather sluggish stream for a 
quarter of a mile or so, and then entered the little 
village of Clam Cove, where they found Captain 
Chalmers and Mr. Knox, one of the scoutmasters, 
somewhat impatiently awaiting them. Pull of ex- 
citement, the boys piled out, gathered up their lug- 
gage, and made tracks for the two motor-boats tied 
to the end of the dock. There was the usual bustle 
and turmoil of embarking, but no delay, for every 
one was too anxious to see the camp to waste any 
time stowing himself away. In ten minutes the 
entire crowd was disposed of and the ropes cast 
off. 

The bay was over a mile wide at this point. Its 
waters, stirred into ripples by the freshening 
breeze, glinted in the rays of the afternoon sun. 
Against the dark green of the farther shore a 
string of little islands showed and started a buzz 
of eager comment and question. About half-way 
across, the camp itself came suddenly into sight, a 
trim row of glistening white tents outlined against 
a background of fir and cedar, which brought 
forth a shout of delight. 

‘‘Gee! Don’t it look great? I can hardly be- 
lieve we ’re here, can you?” 


FIRST AID 


219 


But there could be no question of the reality of 
it all as they tumbled into the trailers and went 
ashore in relays. It was a rather small point, jut- 
ting out from the larger one into the compar- 
atively quiet waters of the bay. For some dis- 
tance back the undergrowth had been cleared 
away, but clumps of bushy cedars and glossy- 
leaved holly remained to give shade and diversity. 
Six wall-tents, each with a wooden floor and bunks 
to accommodate eight boys, were pitched on two 
sides of a square, at the corner of which stood a 
larger tent known as headquarters. Here dwelt 
the governing powers, in the shape of the commis- 
sioner and the three scoutmasters, and in front of 
it, on a rustic pole fluttered the Stars and Stripes. 
Across the square, among the trees, was a large 
dining-tent, and behind that a substantial frame 
cook-shack. 

To the new arrivals, hot and dusty from their 
long ride, it all looked tremendously cool and in- 
viting, and there was a rush to shed uniforms and 
get into shorts and undershirts. Dale Tomp- 
kins found himself placed in a tent with Court 
Parker, Sanson, Bob Gibson, Trexler, Vedder and 
Bennie Rhead, with Ranleigh Phelps as leader. 
The latter ^s presence rather surprised him. He 
supposed Ranny would want to be with Torrance 
and Slater, two of his closest chums. Later, 


220 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

learning that Wesley Becker was tent-leader with 
that crowd, he decided that the arrangement was 
due to the camp heads rather than to Ranny’s per- 
sonal preference. 

But no matter what the cause, Tompkins was 
distinctly glad of the other ^s presence. Though 
he tried not to build any hopes on what might be 
merely the result of his own imagination. Dale had 
a feeling that the fellow he admired and liked in 
spite of himself hadn’t been quite so distant 
lately. Besides, offish or not, just having Ranny 
in the same tent seemed, curiously, to bring him 
nearer, and Dale settled himself in the opposite 
bunk with an odd thrill of satisfaction. 

Long before the hour for the afternoon swim the 
fellows were in their bathing togs, impatiently 
awaiting the signal. When it came, there was a 
regular stampede down to the beach, and in the 
space of thirty seconds every scout, save only 
three of the advance-party, who had been ap- 
pointed life-savers, was splashing joyously in the 
water. They enjoyed every minute of that half- 
hour, and responded to the dressing signal with a 
reluctance that was considerably tempered by Mr. 
Reed ’s announcement of an early supper. 

There was no council-fire that night. The 
crowd that had come down was too sleepy to do 
more than listen to a brief talk by Captain Chal- 


FIRST AID 


221 


mers in front of headquarters tent, in which he re- 
peated what Mr. Curtis had told them of the need 
of refuting Mr. Thornton ^s peculiar ideas on 
scouting and briefly explained the camp rules and 
routine. 

Each of the six tents, which were numbered, was 
to be daily assigned to special duty such as sani- 
tary squad, cook’s helpers, commissary, and the 
like. In addition there would be a daily tent-in- 
spection, and before each meal an inspection of the 
tables, which corresponded to the tents in number 
and for which the boys occupying those tents were 
responsible. All of these marks would be care- 
fully kept, and the tent having the highest at the 
end of each week would be the honor tent, to be 
accorded special privileges besides having its in- 
dividual marks go toward the winning of a camp 
emblem. This emblem, the captain explained, 
would be the highest honor a scout could obtain in 
camp, and when he had finished, almost every one 
of his hearers was keenly determined to carry the 
coveted trophy back to Hillsgrove on the front of 
his jersey. 

It was barely dark when the talk was over, but 
already more than one tired scout was nodding 
and the clear notes of taps sent them stumbling 
tentward. Dale Tompkins lost not a moment in 
shedding his clothes and crawling in between the 


222 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


blankets. He heard vaguely the complaining 
tones of Harry Vedder as he climbed into an upper 
bunk, and the joshing comment of those who 
watched the diverting process. But even these 
sounds barely penetrated to his brain. In a 
moment more he was lost to the world, and in his 
next conscious moment he was opening his eyes 
to the dawn of another day. 


CHAPTER XXI 


LOST MINE HILL 

T he camp was very still. Each tree and bush 
stood motionless and distinct in the queer 
gray light of early morning. Their tent was the 
last in the row, and lying on his side, Dale could 
look under the rolled-up flap straight across the 
sloping, sandy beach, over the smooth, rhythmic 
lapping water of the bay to the low, sparsely 
wooded line beyond which lay the sea.. There was 
a crisp tang to the air that made him snuggle into 
his blankets as he drowsily watched the eastern 
sky turn pink and gold and delicately crimson in 
the glory of the rising sun. 

The boy gave a sigh of content, and his lids 
drooped sleepily. The next thing he knew reveille 
was sounding, and he rolled over to meet the 
glance of Ranny Phelps, sitting tousle-headed on 
the edge of the opposite bunk. 

‘‘Gee! Isn’t this great!” exclaimed Tomp- 
kins, impulsively. 

Ranny nodded. “It sure is!” he agreed, in a 
half-friendly, half-embarrassed fashion. And 

223 


224 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

then, almost as if regretting his tone, he sprang 
up and reached for his swimming-tights. 
‘‘Everybody out for the morning dip, fellows,’’ he 
called authoritatively. 

They needed no urging. Vedder was the only 
one who clung to his blankets, and the others lost 
no time in dragging these off and applying the sole 
of a sneaker with a dexterity that brought a howl 
of protest from the plump youth. 

“Ouch! Quit that!” he roared, rolling over 
the side of the bunk and thudding to the floor. 
“Wait till I get hold of you. Court Parker, and 
I ’ll—” 

The threat ended in a sputter as the rest fled, 
giggling, to gather before headquarters for the 
brief ceremony of flag-raising. Then followed 
five minutes of setting-up exercises that sent the 
blood tingling through their veins and made them 
more than ever eager for the refreshing plunge, 
after which came dressing, the airing of blankets, 
and breakfast — and the day’s work and pleasure 
had fairly begun. 

It was mostly work that first morning. Dale’s 
tent had pioneering duties, and for two hours or 
more he sweated with ax and grub-hoe, clearing 
out more undergrowth and making the camp ship- 
shape. Eanny was no easy taskmaster. He kept 
everybody hustling without any let-up, and half 


LOST MINE HILL 225 

an hour before inspection he had the whole seven 
hard at work on the tent, sweeping, folding blan- 
kets, and tidying up generally. There were a few 
grumbling asides, but the credit they received at 
the inspection silenced all that and made each boy 
resolved to be just as thorough every day. It 
wasnT so bad, after all, most of them decided. 
Certainly they enjoyed their swim twice as much 
for the knowledge that the longest part of the day 
lay before them, unburdened by a single duty. 

Both before and during dinner, there was a 
good deal of speculation as to what had been 
planned for the afternoon. But this was not re- 
vealed until the last spoonful of dessert had been 
consumed, when Mr. Eeed arose from his place at 
the officers^ table. 

‘‘Most of you fellows have heard of Lost Mine 
Hill,’’ he said, “and are probably wanting to get 
a closer view of it. There ’s a legend, you know, 
that before the Eevolution there were copper 
workings in the neighborhod which were long ago 
• abandoned and the entrance to the shafts, or what- 
ever they were, lost track of. This afternoon 
we ’ll take a hike over there and see if a little sys- 
tematic scouting can’t solve the mystery. To 
make it more interesting, we ’ll consider it a sort 
of competition on the treasure-hunt idea, each tent 
working together as a unit against the other five. 


226 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


.If the entrance should happen to he located, the 
crowd that finds it will be given a certain number 
of credits toward the emblem. Everybody be on 
hand at headquarters at one sharp, for we don’t 
want to waste any time starting.” 

The idea met with instant approval, and the 
burst of eager talk that followed showed how thor- 
oughly it had stirred the boys’ imaginations. For 
the next twenty minutes the camp buzzed with in- 
terested discussion, and at one o’clock not a scout 
was missing from the throng before headquarters 
tent. 

They started at once, with Mr. Eeed and Mr. 
Curtis in the lead. There were no regular roads 
to follow, but after half an hour’s tramp through 
the woods they struck an overgrown track, and 
kept to it until it simply dwindled away into noth- 
ing and disappeared. A little distance beyond, 
the ground began to rise, gradually at first, but 
with increasing steepness, while outcroppings of 
rock showed more and more frequently. Pres- 
ently, reaching a small open place among the 
trees, the scoutmasters paused and waited for the 
stragglers to come up. 

‘‘We may as well start the hunt here, fellows,” 
said Mr. Eeed, taking out his watch. “I won’t 
make any suggestions as to how to go about it; 
each tent-leader must think that out for himself. 


LOST MINE HILL 


227 


Use your heads, that ’s all, and don’t get too far 
away to he hack here at four-thirty sharp. It ’s 
taken us over an hour to make this poinf, so we 
ought to start hack then at the latest. Eememher, 
a little blazing will make the return trip easier, 
and if nohody finds anything to-day, we ’ll take it 
up later in the week. Go ahead.” 

The hoys had been standing in little groups 
about him, and at the signal most of these started 
off hotfoot, as if they expected to gain their end by 
speed alone. Some hurried on toward the summit 
of the hill ; others turned to right or left and*, push- 
ing through the undergrowth, disappeared along 
the side of the slope. Somewhat to Tompkins’s 
surprise, Ranny Phelps dawdled along until the 
others were out of sight. Then, however, he 
turned swiftly and led the way almost directly 
downhill. 

‘‘What are you going hack for?” asked Court 
Parker, in surprise. 

“I ’ve got a hunch,” returned Ranny, briefly. 
Though instantly besieged with questions, he did 
not continue until they were well away from the 
clearing. 

“It ’s just this,” he said, without moderating 
his brisk pace. “We certainly can’t expect to find 
something that even the natives have lost track of, 
by just tramping around aimlessly. Of course. 


228 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


we might happen to stumble on it, but that would 
be a thousand-to-one chance. The best way is to 
use system. Did any of you notice the old fellow 
who brought over a load of fish this morning U’ 

^‘The man with whiskers you were talking to at 
the cook-shack asked Frank Sanson. 

‘^Yes. Well, he ^s lived around here all his life 
and is quite a character. I was asking him about 
this lost mine just out of curiosity and without 
having heard anything about the stunt this after- 
noon. He didn^t know much, but he finally did 
say his grandfather had once told him of an old 
building they used as a smelter, or something.’’ 

‘ ^ Gee ! ’ ’ exclaimed Sanson, excitedly. ‘ ‘ And is 
this the way to it?” 

‘^He had n’t any idea. He ’d never seen it him- 
self, and of course it must have gone to ruin ages 
ago. But it stands to reason, doesn’t it, that a 
smelter would be more on the level and not on the 
side of a hill like this ? They ’d have to cart stuff 
to and from it along some kind of a road — ” 

‘‘The one we came along!” put in Parker, 
eagerly. 

“Maybe, though no road would keep open all 
this time without cutting. Very likely that ’s just 
a lumbering-track. The point is, if we can only 
locate this building, we ’ll be somewhere near the 
mine and won’t have to go prospecting all over the 


LOST MINE HILL 


229 


map. So that ’s' what we want to look for — a 
foundation of any kind or the least sign of a build- 
ing. As soon as we ’re down a bit farther we ’ll 
spread out and hunt systematically. It may be 
clear on the other side of the hill, but at least we ’ll 
have something definite to look for. ’ ’ 

‘‘I ’ll bet it ’s on this side,” said Dale Tompkins, 
suddenly. ‘Hn the old days they didn’t have 
many roads and did most of their traveling by 
water, so I should think — Oh, shucks ! I forgot 
the smelter would be near the mine and that might 
be anywhere.” 

^Ht might,” agreed Eanny; ‘‘but it won’t do 
any harm to try this side first. ’ ’ 

Full of enthusiasm, they hurried down the slope, 
and when the steepest part was over they spread 
out in a line about twenty feet apart. In this for- 
mation they moved forward, keeping a sharp look- 
out for the slightest sign that might help them in 
the search. 

They moved slowly forward through the forest, 
the fascination of the hunt gripping them more 
and more strongly. The sense of emulation, al- 
ways keen with a crowd of boys, was intensified by 
the belief that, thanks to Ranny, they had just a 
little better chance of success than any of the 
others. The object of their search, too, stirred 
the imagination. There was a glamour of mys- 


230 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


tery about it which placed the whole thing in a dif- 
ferent class from the games that they ordinarily 
played. 

But little by little, as they found only the same 
monotonous succession of rocks and trees and 
tangled undergrowth, Daleys mind began to dwell 
on the growing probability that they might not find 
the mine after all. Over an hour of close search 
had failed to reveal any trace of the ruined 
smelter. The ground on the river side of the hill 
had been thoroughly gone over, and they were now 
making their way inland, keeping well in toward 
the slope, and even spreading out a little on it. 
Without actually running into any of the other 
searching-parties, they had twice heard voices 
farther up the hill. The second time, in fact, these 
were so near that Dale could distinguish the fa- 
miliar tones of Wesley Becker, and it was while 
peering curiously through the trees in that direc- 
tion that he tripped over an obstruction and fell 
headlong, bruising his shin and twisting one wrist 
painfully. 

‘‘You want to look out for those feet of yours. 
Tommy, laughed Frank Sanson, from the right. 
“They ’re awful things to trip over.” 

Usually quick enough with a retort, Tompkins 
made no answer. He had scrambled up and stood 
clutching his aching wrist instinctively. But 


LOST MINE HILL 


231 


neither his gaze nor his attention was on the in- 
jured member. Flushed, bright-eyed, he was star- 
ing eagerly at the obstacle that had caused his 
tumble. 

It was nothing more than a line of stones, barely 
showing above the decaying vegetation of the for- 
est floor. But the boy^s swift vision had already 
taken in the fact that the line was straight and 
true, and that the stones were held together by 
crumbling remains of mortar. 


CHAPTER XXII 


AEOUND THE COUNCHi EIRE 

D ALE’S first impulse was to summon the oth- 
ers with a jubilant shout. His lips parted 
swiftly, but closed again as he remembered the 
nearness of Wes Becker’s crowd. It would never 
do to let them suspect. 

^ ‘Frank ! ” he called in a low tone. “ Come over 
here — quick ! ’ ’ 

Sanson responded instantly “Found any- 
thing?” he demanded, as he plunged through the 
bushes. Then his eyes fell on the line of ruined 
masonry and he caught his breath. “Gee!” he 
exclaimed delightedly. “That certainly looks 
like—” 

“ ’Sh-h!” cautioned Tompkins. “Wes and his 
bunch are not far otf — right up the hill: we 
must n’t put them wise, or they ’ll all come piling 
down here. You get Ranny and Court, and I ’ll 
tell the others.” 

They quickly separated, and in less than three 
minutes the others had hastened to the spot. As 
he took in the bit of old wall Ranny Phelps’ eyes 
brightened and he looked at Tompkins. 

232 


ABOUND THE COUNCIL FIEE 233 


guess you Ve hit it, old man,’’ he said 
warmly. ‘‘There ’d hardly he any other founda- 
tion in this jungle. Let ’s scrape away the 
leaves and mold a little and see if we can’t find a 
corner.” 

Eagerly they fell to work, and before long had 
uncovered two sides of a rough stone rectangle, 
some eighteen by thirty feet, and even unearthed 
the ends of a couple of tough, hand-hewn oak 
beams which had fallen in and become covered 
with dead leaves and other debris. About the 
middle of one side was a solid, square mass of 
• stone that looked as if it might have been the base 
of a forge or smelting-furnace. But there was no 
chance to proceed further, for Kanny suddenly 
jerked out his watch and gave an exclamation of 
dismay. 

“Gosh! Almost four o’clock. We’ve got to 
start back right away. ’ ’ 

“Aw — gee! Let ’s take just a few minutes 
more,” begged several voices at once. 

“Nothing doing,” returned Eanny, decidedly. 
“If we ’re not back at four-thirty, they ’ll think 
we ’ve found something, and we don’t want that. 
We ’ve got something definite to start from next 
time ; and if we keep it to ourselves, we ’ll have a 
fine and dandy chance of putting it over on the rest 
of the camp. Everybody get busy and hustle 


234 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 

some leaves and staff over the wall so nobody 
else dl stumble on it by accident/’ 

In a very short time practically all traces of 
their explorations bad been covered over, and the 
fellows started back at a brisk pace. They were 
able to return much more quickly than they had 
come out, and reached the meeting-place in good 
season to find, with not a little secret satisfaction, 
that none of the other parties had met with suc- 
cess. 

‘^But you fellows mustn’t let that discourage 
you,” said Mr. Eeed, briskly. ‘‘As I told you be- 
fore, you can’t expect to locate in an hour or so 
something that ’s been lost for nearly a hundred 
years. We ’ll try it again about Saturday, 
and — ” 

“Aw, Mr. Eeed,” piped up Bennie, eagerly, 
“can’t we come back to-morrow and — ” 

He broke off with some abruptness as Eanny’s 
fingers closed over his shoulder in a warning grip. 
The scoutmaster laughed and shook his head. 

“You ’ve got it bad, Bennie,” he smiled. 
“Were you getting warm just when you had to 
stop? You ’ll have to practise patience, I ’m 
afraid. To-morrow we ’re going up the river for 
crabs, and on Friday afternoon there ’ll be an 
athletic meet. Don’t worry, though. The mine 
is n’t going to run away.” 


AEOUND THE COUNCIL FIRE 235 


“You chump whispered Phelps in the small 
boy’s ear as they started off downhill in a body. 
“Do you want to give the whole show away?” 

“I didn’t mean anything, Ranny— honest. I 
didn’t think — ” 

^ ‘ I should say you did n ’t ! ” Ranny ’s tone was 
severe, but his face relaxed a bit at the other’s 
comical expression of dismay. ‘ ‘ Don ’t let another 
peep like that out of you or we ’ll have some of 
the crowd trailing us next time we come here. 
I’ll be surprised if Wes or somebody hasn’t 
caught on already. ’ ’ 

But apparently no one had. Doubtless they 
laid Bennie’s outburst to the irresponsibility of 
extreme youth and ignored it. On the way back 
to camp there was a good deal of general discus- 
sion and theorizing about the location of the mine, 
but the members of Tent Three managed their 
answers well enough, apparently, to prevent sus- 
picion. After supper, too, the interest shifted to 
the morrow’s doings, and by the time the call for 
council-fire sounded through the dusk Lost Mine 
had been momentarily forgotten. 

Out on the extreme tip of Long Point a great 
heap of branches and driftwood had been assem- 
bled, and around this the scouts gathered in a wide 
circle. Some sat cross-legged, draped in blankets, 
for the air was brisk and cool. Others sprawled 


236 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

at lengtli upon the soft sand, shoulder pressing 
shoulder, arms flung carelessly about one an- 
other ’s neck. Overhead the sky was brilliant with 
stars. From all about came the soft lapping of 
water, mingled with the lulling, rhythmic beat of 
surf upon the distant shore. It was a moment of 
complete relaxation after a long and strenuous 
day, and from many lips there breathed sighs of 
utter contentment. 

And then the flames, creeping from a little pile 
of timber at the bottom of the heap, licked up 
through the dead branches to flare out at the top 
— a great yellow beacon that chased away the 
shadows and brought into clear relief the circle 
of eager, boyish faces. From where the officers 
sat came presently the soft chords of Captain 
Chalmers’s guitar mingled with the sweeter, 
higher tinkle of Mr. Reed’s mandolin, feeling their 
way from simple harmonies into the stirring 
melody of an old, familiar song. Of course the 
fellows caught it up, singing lustily to the last 
note, and their clear young voices, wafting out 
across the water, reached the ears of a grizzled 
fisherman coming in with the tide and carried 
him in a twinkling back fifty years or more into 
the long-forgotten past. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A SURPRISE FOR VEDDEB 

I T was a distinctly informal council-fire. 

There were no special stunts or games or 
competitions, as there would be later; merely 
songs, a few announcements, and finally, as the fire 
died down to glowing embers, a story or two. 
But Dale Tompkins had rarely been more per- 
fectly content. 

Drawn together, perhaps, by the events of the 
afternoon and by the interesting secret they held 
in common, the members of Tent Three were 
gathered in a group on one side of the circle. 
Whether by accident or design, Dale sat close to 
Ranny and a little behind him, where he could 
watch the play of light and shadow on the lead- 
er’s handsome face. Scarcely a word passed be- 
tween them, but Dale was conscious of something 
in the other’s manner which made him wonder, 
with a thrill, whether the hateful barrier that had 
existed for so long between them was n’t growing 
a shade less formidable. Suppose some day it 
should vanish altogether ! Suppose the time 
237 


238 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


came when thay conld be real friends of the sort 
he had always dreamed about! He told himself 
that it was probably all imagination, but this did 
not take away his pleasure in the picture. And 
when Ranny, lazily shifting his lounging attitude, 
leaned carelessly back against the knees of the boy 
behind him. Dale thrilled to the touch almost as 
much as he would have done had he not felt the 
other to be quite unconscious of his presence. 

The routine of the second morning in camp was 
much the same as the first had been. But directly 
after dinner the fellows piled into boats and rowed 
oiit to where the Aquita was anchored. As many 
as the power-boat would hold went aboard, leav- 
ing the rest, with a large assortment of crab-nets, 
hooks, lines, bait-boxes, and the like, in the trailers. 
They made a hilarious bunch as they chugged up- 
stream past the straggling fishing-village, under 
the bridge, and on between the low banks of sedge 
and tough water-growth that lined the little river. 
But the noise was as nothing compared with the 
racket that began when they anchored and dis- 
persed for the afternoon sport. 

Some took to the boats, others went ashore and 
fished from the bank, while a few stayed on the 
Aquita, The tide was out and it was an ideal 
spot for crabbing. In fact, the creatures were so 
plentiful that many of the boys abandoned the 


A SUEPEISE FOE VEDDEE 


239 


slower, more cautious method of luring them to 
the surface with bait, and took to scooping them 
otf the bottom with nets, to the accompaniment 
of excited shouts and yells and much splashing 
of mud and water. They kept at it for about two 
hours, and when the whistle summoned them back 
to the motor-boat they brought along a catch big 
enough to furnish several meals for the entire 
camp. 

The last boat to come in was rowed by Dale 
Tompkins. Sanson and Bennie Ehead were with 
him, besides one or two others; but the interest 
and attention of those gathered on and about the 
Aquita was swiftly centered on Harry Vedder, 
perched precariously on the stern seat. His fat 
legs were drawn up clumsily under him, his pudgy 
hands tightly gripped the sides of the craft, while 
his plump face was set in lines expressive of any- 
thing but joy. 

^‘What ’s the matter, Putfy?” called Eanny 
Phelps, as they approached. ^‘You look like 
Humpty Dumpty sitting on a wall!’’ 

Vedder merely sniffed poutingly. The faces of 
Tompkins and Sanson expanded in wide grins. 
‘Ht ’s the crabs,” chuckled the latter. ‘‘They ’re 
so fond of him they won’t let him alone. You 
see,” he added, his eyes dancing, “some of ’em 
happened to get out of the box, and the minute 


240 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


they saw Humpty they got terribly attached to 
him. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes!’^ snorted the plump youth indignantly — 
‘Ho one of my legs, the beastly things! Hurry 
up, Hale, for goodness’ sake; I ’m all cramped 
up!” 

A snicker went up from the other boats. “You 
ought to have spoken to ’em sharply, Ved,” 
grinned Eanny, “and discouraged such liberties.” 

“Yes,” laughed Court; “be firm with ’em!” 

Vedder snorted again and, reaching for the rail 
of the Aquita, climbed aboard with remarkable 
agility. “Maybe you think that ’s funny,” he 
growled, taking possession of the most comfort- 
able seat in sight; “but I ’d rather tackle a snake 
any day than a boat-load of crabs.” 

He was so taken up with his own affairs that 
he quite missed the meaning glance that passed 
between Court Parker and Bob Gibson as they 
fastened their painter to the stern of the power- 
boat. He thought nothing, either, of the fact that 
they were first ashore, where, hastening to remove 
from under one of the seats a medium-sized bait- 
box covered with seaweed, they disappeared be- 
hind the cook-shack. 

But later on, an uncomfortable suspicion came 
to him that there was something in the wind. 
Approaching the cook-shack, where a crowd was 


A SUEPEISE FOE VEDDEE 


241 


occupied in breaking up shells and extracting 
crab-meat for supper, he noticed Parker, San- 
son, and Tompkins giggling and whispering with 
heads close together. As he came up they stopped 
abruptly, but after supper he saw them again, 
clustered in a group with Gibson and Bennie 
Ehead, and caught a grinning glance from the 
latter that deepened his suspicion. 

‘‘I dl bet they ’re up to some trick,” he said to 
himself. 

Uneasily, he kept a sharp lookout, determined 
that they should not catch him napping. But 
oddly enough, the joke, whatever it was, seemed 
to subside, and for all his watchfulness Vedder 
failed to detect any more suspicious confabs dur- 
ing the evening. 

Nevertheless, he remained on guard, especially 
after dark. He did not stray far from headquar- 
ters without peering about for such pitfalls as 
taut ropes, water-pails, and the like. At the coun- 
cil-fire he selected his place with especial care, 
and saw that no one approached from behind with- 
out his knowing it. But the evening passed un- 
eventfully, and when he had reached the tent in 
safety and was undressing by the light of the 
single lantern, he decided he must have been 
worrying to no purpose. 

‘‘Guess I was wrong after all,” he thought, 


242 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


tying the pajama-strings about his ample waist. 
‘‘My, but bed ^s going to feel good!’’ 

If there was one thing Vedder took pains about, 
it was in the arrangement of his blankets. To 
avoid the unpleasant exposure of toes he had 
worked out an elaborate system of folds and 
safety-pins until the combination resembled a 
sleeping-bag more than anything else. It was his 
habit to attend to this immediately after supper 
so that at bedtime there need be no shivery delay 
in getting fixed for the night. This evening he 
climbed ponderously to his perch, inwardly con- 
gratulating himself on his forethought, for the 
others, chattering busily on the day ’s doings, were 
only beginning to spread out their blankets. 

“It pays to be systematic,” he thought com- 
placently, and thrust his legs between the warm 
folds with a luxurious sigh of content. 

An instant later a howl of terror resounded 
through the camp, followed by a convulsive move- 
ment of Vedder ’s legs and body which disrupted 
the neat arrangement in a flash. Dale Tompkins, 
sitting on the edge of the lower bunk, had no time 
even to roll aside before the fat boy, still gurgling 
with fright, landed on him with a crash that shook 
the tent. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE MISSING SCOUT 

W HAT the mischief is the matter with your’ 
demanded Tompkins, rubbing his head 
where it had come into violent contact with the 
floor. 

‘‘A snake!” palpitated Vedder, from the en- 
trance of the tent, to which he had fled. ‘ ‘ There ’s 
a snake in my bed!” 

‘‘You ’re crazy with the heat. Puffy!” ex- 
claimed Ranny Phelps, forcibly. “How could a 
snake get into your bunk?” 

“It ’s there, just the same,” panted Vedder, his 
eyes bulging. “When I put my feet down they 
hit against something cold and — and slimy that 
squirmed about. Ugh! If I hadn’t got out so 
quick, it would have bit me sure as anything. You 
look and see, if you don’t believe me.” 

By this time the camp was astir. As Ranny 
took the lantern and went over to Vedder ’s bunk, 
several boys from neighboring tents crowded in 
to see what was up. When they learned the na- 
ture of the rumpus they were vastly more excited 
243 


244 UNDER BOY] SCOUT COLORS 

than the other occupants of Tent Three, who 
seemed strangely unaffected by the situation. 

‘‘Hanged if there isn’t something here!” said 
Ranny, in a puzzled tone, looking down on the 
blankets. “Get a couple of sticks, fellows, and 
some of you hold down the edges of the blankets 
so it can’t get out.” 

Court Parker turned his back suddenly and 
choked oddly; Tompkins’s face was flushed and 
twitching. But the new-comers obeyed the order 
with enthusiasm, and two of them, darting out, 
returned in a few moments with a couple of crab- 
nets and the heavy butt of a fishing-rod. Mean- 
while, Ranny and several others had drawn the 
blankets taut across the bunk, revealing an irregu- 
lar bulge down near the foot that certainly moved 
slightly. 

“Everybody hit together when I give the word,” 
said Ranny. “One, two — three!” 

The sticks descended with vigor, and there was 
a violent wriggling and thrashing about beneath 
the blankets. But the blows came thick and fast, 
and in a moment or two all movement ceased. 

“I guess it ’s dead, whatever it is,” said Ranny, 
just as Mr. Reed and Mr. Curtis appeared behind 
Vedder, still standing prudently in the back- 
ground. “Let ’s open it up and have a look.” 

As he turned down the blankets, the boys gripped 


THE MISSING SCOUT 


245 


their sticks tighter, ready for instant action in 
case the reptile were not qnite dead. But when 
a final twitch exposed the cause of the commotion, 
there was a moment ^s silence, followed by a united 
exclamation of surprise and disappointment. 

‘‘Why, it ^s nothing but an eelT’ 

Instantly a yell of laughter went up. Parker 
and several other occupants of the tent rolled on 
their bunks in paroxysms of delight. The two 
scoutmasters, smiling broadly, slipped away. 
Vedder, jaws agape, stared at Ranny as if unable 
to believe his hearing. 

“An — eelT’ he gasped. 

“That ’s all,’’ grinned Ranny. “You ’ve got 
the whole camp stirred up over a blooming eel in- 
stead of a snake. ’ ’ 

The fat boy’s teeth came together with a click, 
and, with face flaming, he flounced over to his 
bunk. “You fellows put it there!” he accused 
angrily. 

“Oh, never!” chuckled Frank Sanson. “I ’ll 
bet it got fond of you, like the crabs, and climbed 
up there to make friends. And now they ’ve gone 
and smashed the poor thing all up, and — ” 

A roar of laughter drowned his words, and 
Vedder, grabbing up the eel, flung it square at his 
tormentor. But Frank ducked, and the slimy mis- 
sile flew past his head to land with a thud on the 


246 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


sand outside. A moment later the sound of taps 
sent everybody scurrying for his bunk; but for 
some time after lights were out subdued giggles 
could be heard from all parts of the camp. 

For at least an hour next morning Vedder was 
very dignified and offish. But he was too easy- 
going to maintain a grudge very long, and before 
dinner he had become his comfortable, smiling self 
again. It was noticed, however, that during the 
remainder of his stay in camp he pointedly ig- 
nored the entire race of snakes, eels, and kindred 
reptiles. 

The athletic meet was a great success. The 
scouts were divided, according to weight, into 
juniors and seniors, and there was keen competi- 
tion in the running, jumping, and swimming 
events. But great as was the interest excited, it 
seemed excelled the following afternoon when the 
crowd set out to resume their hunt for the lost cop- 
per-mine. This was both a competition and a 
fascinating mystery, and a good many beside the 
members of Tent Three had apparently fallen vic- 
tims to the spell. 

When they reached the starting-point and sepa- 
rated, Eanny and his bunch lost no time in head- 
ing for the old foundation. A little digging 
opened up what seemed to have been the main 
entrance to the building, but, search as they 


247 


THE MISSING SCOUT 

might, they failed to find anything that in the least 
resembled a road or path or tramway leading to 
the mine entrance. Evidently the means by 
which ore was formerly brought to the smelter 
had been obliterated by the passing years, and it 
looked as if they would have to proceed from this 
point more or less at random. 

^Ht can^t be so very far off,’’ said Eanny, as 
they lined up before him. “We ’d better take the 
hillside first, and remember to look over every 
foot of ground. The entrance may have been 
covered by a fall of rock, so we can’t count on 
finding it open. Keep about the same distance 
apart as you were the other day, and whistle if 
you strike anything promising. ’ ’ 

They set otf promptly. Dale Tpmpkins as be- 
fore being about the middle of the line, with 
Court Parker on his right. The thick under- 
growth and the rocks piled up in confusion made 
progress necessarily slow and prevented him 
from seeing very far in any direction. But every 
now and then the rustling of bushes or the crack- 
ing of dead twigs under foot on either side told 
Dale that he was keeping on the right course. 

For over an hour he searched systematically, 
zigzagging back and forth along his beat and 
examining the ground carefully. The slope grew 
steeper, and at length he paused to wipe the per- 


248 UNDER BOYj SCOUT COLORS 

spiration from his forehead. The sound of foot- 
falls on his right was plainly audible, and 
through the undergrowth he glimpsed a khaki- 
clad figure. 

“Say, Court, he called, raising his voice 
slightly, “found anything jetV^ 

“It ^s not Court,’’ came hack in Frank Sanson’s 
familiar tones. “What the dickens are you doing 
so far over. Tommy? Did you change places?” 

“Why, no!” Dale’s voice was puzzled; in- 
stinctively he moved toward the other boy. “I ’ve 
been keeping right along the way I started,” he 
went on, as they came face to face. “Court was 
on this side then.” 

“Sure! He was on my left. I haven’t seen 
him for half an hour or more, hut I kept hearing 
him every now and then. You don’t suppose he 
could have strayed over behind you and to the 
other side?” 

“I don’t see how. I ’d have heard him, 
wouldn’t I?” 

For a moment or so the two boys stood looking 
at one another in a puzzled fashion. “It ’s 
funny,” Sanson said at length. “He wouldn’t 
have gone back, either. If he found something, 
he ’d have whistled. Let ’s call and see if he ’s 
over the other way.” 

Tompkins nodded, and together they walked 


THE MISSING SCOUT 


249 


briskly back a few steps. But it was Ranny 
Phelps who answered their hail, and in a few 
moments they saw him coming toward them 
through the brush. 

^ ‘ What ’s up ? ’ ’ he asked quickly. “You have n ^t 
found — 

“ No ; it ’s Court, ’ ’ interrupted Tompkins. ‘ ‘ He 
started out between Frank and me, but he must 
have got mixed up somehow, for we can’t find 
him. We thought he might be over your way.” 

^ ‘ I have n ’t seen him, ’ ’ said Ranny, briefly. He 
hesitated an instant and then, pursing up his lips, 
whistled shrilly. “Best way ’s to get them all 
together and straighten things out,” he went on. 
“If he ’s off his beat, the chances are that part of 
the ground isn’t being looked over at all. This 
way, fellows.” 

Bob Gibson was the first to hurry up. Then 
came Trexler, Bennie Rhead, and lastly Vedder, 
panting with his haste. But Parker was not 
among them, nor did Ranny ’s repeated whistling 
bring sight or sound of the missing boy. None 
of the others had seen him since leaving the old 
foundation, and as they stood there, puzzled and 
a bit anxious, Tompkins suddenly remembered 
that for some little time before the meeting with 
Sanson he had failed to hear the rustlings on his 
right that had kept him aware of Court’s pres- 


250 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

ence. At the time it had seemed unimportant, but 
now he made haste to mention it. 

^‘Bennie, you chase back to the smelter and see 
if he ’s there by any chance,’’ ordered Ranny, 
crisply, when Dale had finished. ^‘The rest of 
us get in a close line and beat back along Court’s 
territory. I can’t imagine anything happening 
to him that Tompkins or Sanson wouldn’t hear 
or know about — unless, of course, it ’s a joke.” 

His jaw squared in a way that boded ill for the 
volatile Courtlandt if this should prove to be one 
of his familiar escapades. But, somehow, Tomp- 
kins did not believe that this could be the ex- 
planation. Court had been too keenly enthusias- 
tic about the search to delay it by senseless 
horse-play. Though he, no more than Ranny, 
could think of any accident which would render 
the boy unconscious without his making a sound 
of any sort. Dale took his place in the line with 
a feeling of distinct uneasiness. 

So close together that they could almost touch 
each other’s outstretched hands, the scouts 
started down the slope. There was little conver- 
sation, for by this time all were more or less 
worried. Just where they expected to find the 
missing boy would have been hard to tell, but a 
rabbit could scarcely have escaped their close 
scrutiny of bush and rock and thorny tangle. 


THE MISSINH SCOUT 


251 


It was fifteen minutes or so before they came 
to a giant rock that thrust its lichened bulk up 
from the forest mold. At least that was what it 
seemed at first — a single, flat-topped mass of 
stone, ten or twelve feet through and about as 
high. But passing close to one side, Tompkins 
and Sanson discovered that it was split in two 
pieces, one of which had fallen away from the 
other just enough to leave a jagged crack, not 
more than three feet wide, between them. A 
spreading mass of laurel screened the opening 
from any but the closest inspection, and as 
he pushed this to one side Dale gave a sudden 
start and stared intently at the ground beneath 
it. 

“Look at that!’’ he exclaimed, turning to 
Frank, who was close behind. 

The latter pressed forward and glanced over 
his shoulder. “What? Oh! You mean — Gee! 
Did n’t you break it off?” 

“No!” 

Dale’s heart was beating unevenly as he bent 
to pick up the tiny broken twig. There were 
three leaves on it, as fresh and green as those on 
the parent bush; the broken end showed white 
and living. He met Sanson’s glance and, drop- 
ping the twig, stepped into the jagged crevice. 
A moment later he gave a smothered cry. At his 


252 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

feet lay a scout hat of brown felt. A few inches 
beyond yawned a black hole, the leaves and mold 
and rotten branches about its edges scuffed and 
torn and freshly broken. 


CHAPTEE XXV 


LOST MINB FOUND 

F or a long moment the two boys stood motion- 
less, staring wide-eyed and dismayed at the 
gaping hole before them. Then Dale came to him- 
self with a sudden stiffening of the muscles. 

“Get Eanny!’’ he snapped over his shoulder. 
And even as the words passed his lips he was 
conscious of a thrill of thankfulness that the older 
fellow was here to depend upon. A second later 
he was stretched out on the ground, his head thrust 
over the hole. 

“Court!’’ he called loudly. “Court— are you 
down there?” 

For an instant there was no sound. Then his 
words beat back on him in a queer, sardonic kind 
of echo that sent a shiver flickering down his spine. 
He called again, but still there was no reply. 
Staring down, he tried to penetrate the darkness, 
but his straining sight could make out nothing but 
black void. A vivid picture of the mine-shaft he 
had once seen in Pennsylvania flashed into his 
mind and turned him cold. Then a step sounded 
253 


254 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


behind him, and lifting his head, he looked into 
Ranny ’s set face. 

“Does he answer?’^ 

“No.’’ 

“Let me get there.” 

Scrambling to his feet, Dale flattened out 
against the rock and Ranny took his place. Two 
or three times the latter shouted Parker’s name, 
but only the echo answered. Then he stood up, 
and, squeezing past Tompkins, pressed through 
the crowd of boys gathered about the entrance 
to the crevice. His face was a little pale, but his 
jaw was square and he held a scout whistle in one 
hand. A moment later three long shrill blasts re- 
sounded through the woods. 

It was the scout danger-signal — a call for help. 
The boys stood motionless, listening intently for 
an answer. Presently it came, two short blasts, 
rather faint and far off, from over the top of the 
hill. 

“That ’s Mr. Reed, I guess,” said Ranny. “I 
hope he ’ll bring that coil of rope along. But of 
course he will. He ’s not the kind to forget 
any — ” 

The words died on his lips ; his eyes widened in 
startled surprise. The others, following the di- 
rection of his bewildered gaze, gasped and stared. 
Bennie Rhead, returned from a fruitless trip to the 


LOST MINE FOUND 255 

old foundation, cried out sharply, an undercurrent 
of fright in his voice. 

Around the corner of the great rock Court 
Parker had stepped quietly into view. He was 
bareheaded and dirt-streaked, but his face never- 
theless wore a broad grin, and after the first shock 
of surprise had passed, Bob Gibson started for- 
ward angrily. 

‘‘By heck!’’ he exclaimed irately. “If you 
think this sort of thing is funny. Court Parker, 
it ’s about time somebody taught you — ” 

“Shut up. Bob!” cut in Kanny, curtly. His 
quick eye had taken in the streak of blood 
on Parker’s cheek and noted a slight twitching 
at the corners of the boy’s smiling mouth. 
“You ’re not hurt, are you. Court?” he added 
quickly. 

Parker shook his head. “Not to speak of.” 
He drew a long breath. “Well, we ’ve found the 
mine,” he went on in a voice which failed to be 
quite as matter of fact as he evidently tried to 
make it. 

In an instant he was surrounded by the excited 
boys and fairly bombarded with questions : ‘ ‘ Did 
you fall down the hole?” “What ’s it like down 
there?” “How did you get out?” 

Court laughed a little shakily and sat down sud- 
denly on a rock. “Give me a chance, can’t you?” 


256 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


he begged. We only got one tongue, even 
though I can make that go pretty fast.’’ 

‘‘Cut it out and quit worrying him, fellows,” 
ordered Ranny. “Take your time. Court, and 
start at the beginning. How did you get down 
the hole ? ’ ’ 

“Cinchiest thing you know!” grinned Parker. 
“I just stepped on the cover and went through. 
You see, when I went into that crack the hole 
did n ’t show at all ; there were a lot of branches 
and stuff over it. One minute I was on solid 
ground, and the next I was flying through space. ’ ’ 

“Gee!” exclaimed Sanson. “How deep was 
it?” 

“Seemed about a mile; hut I guess it wasn’t 
more than twenty feet. Luckily there was a lot 
of leaves and stuff at the bottom, so I landed 
pretty soft. But when I tried to climb hack I 
found it was too slippery. Then I lost my voice 
yelling, d)ut nobody came, so I started to look 
around a bit. It ’s just one long tunnel, running 
both ways and braced up by rotten old timbers 
and things. I had my flash-light in my pocket, so 
I wasn’t afraid of being lost. I took the right- 
hand turn and— I say, fellows, there ’s a bear 
down there ! ” 

“A bear?” chorused the astonished audience as 
one boy. 



In an instant lie M'as snrroniuled l)v oxeitt'd l)()\'s 



r 








LOST MINE FOUND 


259 


‘^Well, it might be a wildcat or something like 
that. I only saw its eyes, but I tell you they held 
me up, all right. About three hundred feet from 
where I fell in there was another kind of a shaft 
thing, only not so big, sort of off to one side. It 
was nT very deep, either, for when I looked down 
I saw those two big yeUow eyes that didnT seem 
more than eight or ten feet down. Gee whiz! 
I was scared. I must have got turned around, 
too; because, when I came to, I found I was leg- 
ging it away from the big hole instead of back 
toward it.’’ 

He paused and drew a long breath; his fas- 
cinated hearers sighed in sympathy. ‘‘Did you 
go back then?” one of them asked eagerly. 

“I was thinking about it,” resumed Court, 
“when my thumb slipped off the flash-key, and 
ahead of me, not so very far away, was a little 
spot of light — daylight, you know. You ’d better 
believe I hustled for it. The tunnel had been 
going up hill quite some, and now it began to get 
narrower and lower. Before very long I had 
to get down and crawl, and then I found the light 
was coming between two rocks through a crack 
that didn’t look more than a foot or so wide. 
The bottom was pounded down hard in a regular 
path; I s’pose that was the way the bear got in 
to its den. Anyhow, there was just room for me 


260 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

to squeeze out, and even then I cut my face and 
tore these holes in my suit.’’ 

''Kind of small, then, for a full-grown bear, I 
should think,” commented Ranny. 

Court looked a trifle foolish. "I never thought 
of that,” he confessed. "Still, I bet a wildcat 
could do it. ” 

"It might — only I haven’t heard of any wild- 
cats being around here.” 

"What ’s the matter with our taking a look!” 
suggested Dale Tompkins. 

"Going through the hole Court came out of!” 
asked Ranny, glancing at him. 

"Sure! We ’ve got some flash-lights, and very 
likely the beast is stuck down that shaft and can’t 
get out. I vote we try it. ” 

Two or three fellows backed him up, but the 
others showed no great enthusiasm in the ven- 
ture. They were quite willing, however, to go as 
far as the outside of the hole, and started off 
without delay, only to meet Mr. Reed with Mr. 
Curtis and several scouts coming up at a brisk 
trot. 

When Court’s story had been told over again 
the scoutmasters decided that the investigalion 
had better be made from the end that Court had 
stumbled into. They had brought the rope with 
them, and when one end of this was firmly fas- 


LOST MINE FOUND 


261 


tened, Mr. Keed slid down into the old mine. 
He spent some time inspecting the ancient tim- 
bering, but finally decided that it was safe 
enough for those who wished to follow him. This 
meant the entire assembled crowd, and when all 
were gathered at the bottom. Court led the way. 

The tunnel was fairly wide and over six feet 
high. It sloped gently upward and was quite dry, 
thus accounting for the preservation of the mas- 
sive oak beams that acted as supports. Here and 
there along the sides were the marks of tools, but 
scarcely a vestige of ore remained. 

“Vein petered out, I suppose,’’ remarked Mr. 
Curtis. “That ’s why it was abandoned, of 
course.” 

The interest of the scouts, however, was less 
on the mine than on Court’s “wildcat.” As they 
approached the shaft some hurried forward 
while others kept prudently in the rear. 

“He ’s there yet!” announced Parker, peering 
over the edge. “See his eyes! I wonder if — ” 

He did not finish. Mr. Keed flashed the light 
from his battery into the hole, and Trexler, 
close beside him, gave an exclamation of surprise. 

“Why, it ’s a coon!” 

And so it was ; an uncommonly large specimen, 
to be sure, but still exceedingly harmless and in- 
otfensive. In fact, at the flashes of light and the 


262 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

sight of so many faces peering down on it, the 
frightened creature shrank close to the side of 
the pit as if trying to escape. 

‘Mt ^s fallen down and can^t get out exclaimed 
Trexler. ‘ ‘ Can ’t I go down and get it, Mr. Reed ? ’ ’ 

The hole was barely four feet across and not 
more than twice as deep— a trial shaft, Mr. Cur- 
tis suggested, probably sunk in the search for an- 
other vein.^ Receiving permission, Paul simply 
hung by his hands and dropped, and the inter- 
ested spectators saw him lift up the coon. 

‘‘The poor thing ^s half starved,’^ he said. 
‘ ‘ Let down a couple of coats, fellows, and pull him 
up. He ’ll make a dandy camp mascot.” 

The idea was hailed with delight. There was 
little trouble in hoisting the creature to the sur- 
face and pulling Trexler after him. Then the en- 
tire crowd turned back to the entrance shaft, their 
interest diverted to this new pet. 

Back on the surface the assembly whistle was 
blown, and the two scoutmasters made them- 
selves comfortable while waiting the arrival of 
the throng they knew would be eager to inspect 
the mine. The members of Tent Three, however, 
did not linger. Obtaining permission to return 
at once to camp, they hustled off, carrying the 
coon with them, and for the brief remainder of the 
day they were exceedingly busy. 


LOST MINE FOUND 


263 


Pete, as the mascot was christened, had to be 
fed and housed and cared for, and it took some 
time to build a crate strong enough to keep him 
from escaping. At first he threatened to be killed 
by kindness, but finally Trexler was voted his spe- 
cial guardian, and in a surprisingly short time the 
animal became noticeably docile and friendly. He 
had an inordinate curiosity and was as full of 
mischief as any monkey. But though the cook 
frowned on him, his popularity with the scouts 
increased with every day. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE WISH OF HIS HEART 

A nd how swiftly those remaining days passed 
with their mingling of work and play ! 
There were more fishing excursions and athletic 
meets. One afternoon was devoted to an exciting 
treasure-hunt ; another saw a sham battle in which 
part of the boys in boats attacked one of the 
islands defended by the remainder. At regular 
intervals, too, Captain Chalmers gave scout exam- 
inations in headquarters tent, and an encouraging 
number of fellows increased their standing or ob- 
tained merit-badges. 

Dale Tompkins thoroughly enjoyed each minute 
of his stay. He entered with keen zest into every 
game and competition, and took his share of the 
various chores — even the hated dish-washing — 
without a grumble. It was all so fresh and won- 
derful that the simplicity and freedom of the 
life, with the nightly council-fire under the stars 
and the intimate companionship with so many 
‘ ^ dandy fellows, appealed to him intensely even 
without considering the added interest of each 
day^s activities. 


264 


THE WISH OF HIS HEAET 


265 


Best of all, perhaps, was his feeling of growing 
comfort in the attitude of Kanny Phelps. There 
had been nothing in the nature of a formal recon- 
ciliation. On the contrary, the blond lad’s man- 
ner toward Tompkins still showed traces of em- 
barrassment. But one does not always need the 
spoken word to realize the truth, and deep down 
in his heart Dale knew that, though they might 
not yet be close friends, at least no shadow of cold- 
ness or enmity remained between them. 

When the last day came, as last days have an 
unpleasant way of doing. Dale tried to think of 
the wonderful time he had had instead of regret- 
ting that it was almost over. More than once, 
too, his mind dwelt with gratitude on the unknown 
customer whose need for bird-houses had made it 
all possible. 

‘‘Maybe some day I ’ll find out who it was and 
be able to thank him,” he said to himself during 
the course of the morning. 

A final trip in the motor-boat had been planned 
for the afternoon, but after dinner Captain Chal- 
mers announced that Mr. Thornton would inspect 
the camp at about five o ’clock, and stay for supper 
and the council-fire afterward. 

“So I think we ’d better put in a few hours 
making things spick and span and working up a 
specially good program for to-night,” he con- 


266 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


eluded. ‘‘You fellows all know how keen I am to 
give him an extra good impression of scouting, 
and you Ve kept things in corking good shape 
these two weeks. But let ’s see if we canT give 
him a regular knock-out blow when he comes. ’ ’ 
One and all the scouts took up the idea enthu- 
siastically and worked to such purpose that when 
the banker appeared he found a camp which 
would have done credit to the West Point cadets. 
He was a little stiff at first, but during supper in 
the big tent he thawed considerably, and later, at 
the council-fire, he applauded the various stunts 
with the enjoyment and simple abandon, almost, 
of a boy. When these were over he rose to his 
feet, and the firelight gleaming on his face showed 
it softened into lines of genial good-fellowship. 

“I ’ve had a mighty good time to-night, boys,” 
he said, glancing around the circle of eager, young 
faces. “I just want to thank you for it and tell 
you frankly that what I ’ve seen of Hillsgrove Boy 
Scouts has changed my mind completely about the 
whole proposition. If you fellows are a fair sam- 
ple of scouting generally, — as I begin to suspect 
you are, — I see no reason why you should not con- 
sider this camp a permanent thing, to come back 
to every year and be responsible for and do with 
as you like. I should very much — ” 

The wild yell of delight which went up drowned 


THE WISH OF HIS HEART 


267 


the remainder of his remarks. Leaping to his 
feet, Macllvaine called for a cheer, and the three 
times three, with a tiger at the end, was given with 
a vigor that left no donht of the hoys^ feelings. 
When comparative quiet was restored Mr. Thorn- 
ton thanked them briefly and said he would like to 
shake hands with every one of the scouts present. 

Laughing and jostling, the boys formed in line, 
and as each paused before the banker. Captain 
Chalmers introduced him. Tompkins was just be- 
hind Ranny, and he could not fail to notice the ex- 
tra vigor Mr. Thornton put into his handshake. 

’m very glad to meet you, Phelps,’^ he said 
genially. ‘‘Your father and I are old friends. 
In fact, I dined with him at Hillsgrove only a few 
days ago. And by the way, I was immensely taken 
with those bird-houses on the place and want some 
like them for my own. He told me you had put 
them around just before you came down here. 
Did you make them yourself!’’ 

The usually self-contained Ranleigh turned 
crimson and dropped his eyes. “N-no, sir,” he 
stammered. “They were made by— by— an- 
other — I ’ll write the address down, and — and 
give it to you afterward. ’ ’ 

He passed on, and the hoy behind him took his 
place. In a daze Dale felt his hand shaken and 
heard the sound of Mr. Thornton’s pleasant 


268 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

voice, but the words were as meaningless as if 
they had been spoken in another tongue. Mut- 
tering some vague reply, he dropped the other’s 
hand and was swept on by the crowd behind. 

Out of the whirling turmoil of his mind one 
thing alone stood forth sharply. Those were his 
bird-houses ; they could not possibly be any other. 
It was Ranny who had given him these wonderful 
two weeks — Ranny, whom he thought — 

His head went up suddenly and, glancing 
around, he caught sight of the blond chap disap- 
pearing toward the beach. In a few moments he 
was at his side. 

‘‘Ranny!” he exclaimed impulsively. “You — 
you — ” 

Something gripped his throat, making further 
speech impossible. Phelps stirred uneasily. 

“Well,” he said with a touch of defiance, “I 
wanted them, and — and I could n’t make them my- 
self. I — I ’m a perfect dub with tools.” 

“You — you did it to — give me a chance at 
camp. ’ ’ 

Dale’s voice was strained and uneven. His 
hand still rested on the other’s arm, and in the 
brief silence that followed he felt Ranny stiffen 
a little. 

“If I did, it was only fair,” the older chap said 
suddenly, in low, abrupt tones. “I— I ’ve been a 





‘•Kaiiiiv 




« « 


lie (‘XC'laiiiK'd ini})ulsiv(‘l\ 


“Von — YOU 






THE WISH OF HIS HEAET 


271 


beastly cad, Dale. I ’ve worked against you every 
way I could. ’ ’ His voice grew sharp and self-re- 
proachful. kept it up like a stubborn mule 
even when I began to see — Why, look at the rot- 
ten, conceited way I kept you out of baseball. 
After that it was only — decent to do what I could 
to — ^make up.’’ 

They stood in the moonlight, the water at their 
feet, while back among the trees the fire blazed 
up, sending a shower of sparks drifting across the 
spangled heavens. The talk and laughter of the 
crowd gathered there seemed to come from very 
far away. 

‘‘You did it to — to square up, then!” Dale asked 
presently in a low tone. 

There was another pause. Suddenly an arm 
slid about his shoulders, and for the first time 
Eanny turned and looked him squarely in the eyes. 

“No,” he answered quietly. “It was because I 
wanted us to be in camp — together.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE SUBPEISE 

T he last barrier of reserve between the two 
had fallen. From that moment they were 
friends of the sort Dale had sometimes dreamed 
of, but only lately dared to hope for. And as the 
weeks lengthened into months, as summer sped 
along to fall, the bond grew closer, until they be- 
came well-nigh inseparable. In school and out, on 
the football field, at scout meetings, on hikes, they 
were always together, until at last those early days 
of clash and bitterness seemed as unreal as the fig- 
ments of a dream. 

Troop Five held well together during the fol- 
lowing winter. Inevitably, two or three boys 
dropped out and new ones took their places. But 
the majority stayed on and had better times than 
ever on the lake and in their cabin.^ After Christ- 
mas they began work in earnest on their share of 
the big scout rally, which was to be given in the 
spring to illustrate for the towns-people the aims 
and purposes of scouting, and also as a means of 
gaining new recruits. Every troop was to take 

272 


THE SURPRISE 273 

part, and not a little good-natured rivalry de- 
veloped between them. 

Troop Five was to illustrate the various uses of 
the scout staff in a number of drills and forma- 
tions, the most effective and also the most difficult 
of which was one that Mr. Curtis called the riot 
wedge. Though necessitating a good deal of hard 
work, most of the boys were keen about it, for they 
were determined to excel the work of the other 
troops. Perhaps the only fellow who complained 
was only Bob Gibson, and he wouldn’t have 
seemed himself at all without finding something 
to grumble about. 

‘ ‘ Gee ! but I ’m sick of this silly drill ! ” he 
growled under his breath one night when they 
had been practising steadily for an hour. He 
slumped his shoulders a bit and his staff tilted to 
a slovenly angle. ‘‘What ’s the sense of it, any- 
how?” 

“ ’Tention!” rang out the quick, decisive voice 
of Scoutmaster Curtis, standing slim and erect 
before the line of scouts. “We ’ll try that once 
more, fellows, and get a little snap into it this 
time. Bob, if you could manage to support your 
staff in an upright position, it would improve the 
looks of the line. ’ ’ 

There was no sting in his tone, and Bob, grin- 
ning sheepishly, straightened his shoulders and 


274 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 

brought his staff to the same angle as the others. 

‘‘Prepare to form riot wedge!’’ ordered the 
scoutmaster, crisply. ‘ ‘ One ! ’ ’ 

There was a rapid thud of feet and a swift, 
scurrying movement which might have seemed 
to the uninitiated meaningless and without pur- 
pose. But when the stir had ceased and silence 
fell, each of the three patrols had formed itself 
into a regular wedge with one of the largest, 
strongest boys at the apex and the patrol-leader 
standing in the middle of the base. Their staves 
were upright, but at the sharp command of 
“Two!” these swung into a horizontal position, 
the ends crossing and the whole becoming a con- 
tinuous barrier with the boys behind it. 

“Fine and dandy!” approved Mr. Curtis. 
“That ’s more the way it ought to go. Now, 
let ’s try the double wedge I showed you last 
week. Eagle patrol, dress a little to the left; 
Beavers to the right. Eeady"? One!” 

This time there was a little more confusion, for 
the movement was newer and more complicated 
than the other. Eaven patrol took position as be- 
fore, though spreading out a bit and gathering in 
a boy from each of the other patrols to form the 
ends of the larger wedge. The Eagle and Beaver 
patrols then swung around against either side of 
the wedge, each boy covering the space between 


THE SURPRISE 275 

the two lads behind him. The final manoeuver thus 
presented a double row of scouts linked together 
by their lowered staves into a formation that 
would be equally effective in pushing through a 
dense crowd or withstanding the pressure of their 
assaults. 

‘‘Good!’’ smiled Mr. Curtis. “A bit slow, of 
course, but we ’ll get it all right. Now, fellows, 
I ’d like to have a full attendance next week. 
Captain Chalmers will address the troop on a spe- 
cial matter, and I think by that time I ’ll have a 
rather pleasant surprise for you. Has any one 
any questions to ask before we break up?” 

Court Parker saluted, his face serious save for 
an irrepressible twinkle in his eyes. “Couldn’t 
you — er — tell us about the surprise to-night, sir?” 
he asked. “Next week ’s an awful long time otf, 
you know. ” 

The scoutmaster smiled. “You ’ll enjoy it all 
the more when it comes,” he returned. “Besides, 
it is n’t quite ready to be told yet. I think that ’s 
all to-night, fellows. Patrol-leaders dismiss their 
patrols.” 

As the crowd poured out of the building a chorus 
of eager speculation arose. 

“Wonder if it ’s anything to do with camp,” 
suggested Frank Sanson. 

“How could it be?” objected Dale Tompkins, 


276 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

his arm across Ranny Phelps’s shoulder. ‘‘Camp 
could n’t be much better than it was last summer; 
and if he ’s had word we can’t use the place — 
well, that wouldn’t be exactly pleasant.” 

‘ ‘ Right, old scout ! ’ ’ approved Ranny. Then his 
face grew suddenly serious. “Do you suppose it 
could be about — the war?” he ventured. 

There was a momentary silence. In Hills- 
grove, as in most other parts of the country, war 
and rumors of war had been plentiful of late. 
The ruthless German submarine campaign had 
been on for weeks. Only a few days before, the 
severing of diplomatic relations with that govern- 
ment had made a great stir. Everywhere people 
were wondering what would be the next step, and, 
according to temperament or conviction, were com- 
plaining of governmental sloth or praising the 
President’s diplomacy. In all of this the boys had 
naturally taken more or less part, wondering, 
speculating, planning — a little spectacularly, per- 
haps — ^what they would do if war actually came. 

Suddenly Bob Gibson sniffed. “Shucks!” he 
commented dogmatically. “Of course it isn’t. 
I don’t believe in this war business. I ’ll bet that 
old surprise is some silly thing not worth men- 
tioning. I ’ll bet it ’s as foolish as the riot wedge. 
If anybody can tell me what good that is or ever 


THE SURPRISE 


277 


would be, I ’ll give him an ice-cream soda. When 
would there ever be a riot in this one-horse burg? 
I ’d like to know. And if there was one, what 
would a bunch of fellows like us be able to do 
against — ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, cut it out ! ’ ’ begged Ranny Phelps. ‘ ‘ You 
know you ’re just talking to hear the sound of 
your own voice. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Am not ! ’ ’ growled Gibson, stubbornly. ‘ ‘ Here 
we ’ve wasted over an hour on the blooming thing, 
and it ’s not the first time, either, he ’s kept us 
late. It ’s getting to be nothing but drill, drill, 
drill, and it makes me sick.” 

‘‘Don’t be an idiot just because you happen to 
know how,” urged Ranny, a touch of earnestness 
beneath his banter. “You know perfectly well it 
is n’t all drill, or anything like it. Maybe there ’s 
been more of it just lately, but I don’t see any 
sense in taking up a thing unless you do it right. 
Trouble with you. Bob, you ’re so set and stub- 
born that you ’ve got to find something to kick 
about or argue against or you would n’t be happy. 
I ’ll bet if Dan Beard himself came out for a talk, 
you ’d want to give him points on camping, or 
forestry, or something like that.” 

There was a shout of laughter from the others 
that brought a touch of color to Gibson’s cheeks. 


278 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


He growled out an emphatic denial, but Ranny 
had hit the mark so accurately that Bob dropped 
the subject for the time. 

There was not a vacant place in the line the 
next Monday, and when the scout commissioner 
stepped forward to speak he was greeted with 
flattering attention Some of this was due to his 
position in the movement ; but a great deal more, 
it must be confessed arose from the fact that he 
was an exceedingly active and competent officer 
in the national guard, and as such was regarded 
by the boys as a rather superior being 

‘‘I Ve only a few words to say, fellows, Cap- 
tain Chalmers began. ‘‘From now on I want you 
all to work extra hard on your signaling and first 
aid. These are the two features of scouting 
which, in the near future, may be particularly 
valuable. Keep up your practice for the rally, 
but give all the rest of your spare time to these 
two things. There ’s one more point. How many 
of you would like to learn something of the regu- 
lar military drill? Those interested, step forward 
one pace. ’ ’ 

With a swift movement the whole line swayed 
forward. Captain Chalmers nodded approvingly. 

‘ ‘ Fine ! ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ I want to make this another 
feature of the rally. With your permission, Mr. 
Curtis, I ’ll start them in on the rudiments to- 


THE SURPEISE 279 

night. The staves, of course, will take the place 
of arms.^’ 

The hour which followed seemed one of the 
briefest the boys had ever known. The captain 
was no easy taskmaster, but not even Bob Gibson 
grumbled. There was something inspiring in 
those snappy, authoritative orders, in the rhyth- 
mic tramp of marching feet, in the growing sense 
of efficiency and pride with each movement under- 
stood and properly executed. EVery one of the 
twenty-four scouts put his whole being into the 
work, and in the end they were rewarded by Cap- 
tain Chalmerses pleased approval. 

‘‘That great !ee he said when at length they 
stood at ease. “I didn^t think you ’d do so well. 
Keep it up in that spirit, and we 11 all be proud 
of you. After this, Mr. Curtis will do the drill- 
ing. Besides practising what you Ve already 
learned, one new evolution thoroughly mastered 
at each meeting will be about all you ought to 
undertake.’’ 

He stepped back, and Mr. Curtis took his place. 
At the sight of the folded paper in his hand a 
sudden ripple of interest ran down the line. 

“Gee!” muttered Frank Sanson. “I ’d forgot- 
ten all about the surprise!” 

“I have a letter here from Mr. Thornton, fel- 
lows,” said the scoutmaster, unfolding the paper. 


280 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


Smiling a little, his glance ranged over the long 
line of eager, inquiring faces ; then it dropped to 
the sheet before him, and he read aloud slowly: 

“My dear Curtis: 

“As you know from my note of ten days or more ago, I 
have amused myself during the past few months by having 
a permanent mess-shack and recreation-room built on the site 
of the big dining-tent. The finishing touches will be put to 
this within a few days, and I think something in the nature 
of a housewarming is in order. It will give me great pleas- 
ure if your troop can be my guests down at the camp during 
their Easter vacation, which begins, I understand, toward the 
last of the month. By that time the weather ought to be 
mild enough for a week of tent fife — at least for Boy Scouts; 
and there will always be the new building to fall back on. I 
will see to the transportation back and forth, and I hope 
every one of your boys will be able to come. 

“Sincerely yours, 

“John Thornton.” 

For an instant there was a dazed silence 
throughout the room. Then a yell broke forth 
which could have been heard — and was — as far 
as the green. Breaking ranks, boys clutched one 
another in exuberant embraces and pranced 
madly about the hall. Then there was more 
shouting, and throwing-up of hats, and general 
disorder, which Mr. Curtis made no attempt to 
check. When failing breath brought comparative 
quiet, he raised his hand for silence. 

‘‘I gather that the invitation meets with your 
approval,^’ he remarked with a smile. ‘‘Shall I 


THE SUEPRISE 281 

send Mr. Thornton the grateful acceptance of the 
whole troop ? ’ ’ 

‘‘You bet!’’ came back promptly and emphati- 
cally from a dozen voices. “Wough! He ’s 
some good sport!” “Think of it, fellows! A 
new mess-shack ! A whole week in camp in 
April!” “Pinch me, somebody; I don’t believe 
I ’m awake at all ! ” 

The last speaker was promptly accommodated, 
and after a little additional skylarking, things 
quieted down. Before the meeting broke up, Mr. 
Curtis wrote a letter of sincere thanks and ac- 
ceptance to John Thornton, which each one of the 
scouts signed with a flourish. After that, with 
youthful inconsequence, they hustled home to ob- 
tain parental sanction. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


war! 

I N some miraculous fashion the necessary per- 
mission was obtained by each and every one of 
the boys of Troop Five, and bright and early on 
the morning after school closed the whole crowd 
was packed into the motor-truck, jouncing south- 
ward over roads very much the worse for spring 
thaws. It was, in fact, a vastly more uncomfort- 
able trip than the one last summer. But over- 
head the skies were cloudless; warm breezes, 
faintly odorous of spring and growing things, 
caressed their cheeks, and youth was in their 
hearts. What cared they for hard seats, for 
jolts and jounces, for mud-holes, delays, and the 
growing certainty of a late arrival? A thrilling 
week, golden with possibilities, lay before them, 
and nothing else mattered. They chattered and 
sang and ate, and stopped by wayside springs, and 
ate again. The sun was setting when they lum- 
bered into Clam Cove and tumbled out of the 
truck to find the old Aquita waiting at the land- 
ing. Then came the chugging passage of the bay, 
and the landing at the new dock they had not even 
282 


WAE! 


283 


heard of, but where they did not pause long, so 
eager were they all to inspect the mess-shack, bulk- 
ing large and unfamiliar through the gathering 
dusk. 

It was n ’t really a shack at all, but a commo- 
dious log structure some forty feet by twenty — 
big, airy, and spacious. There were benches and 
tables of rough yet solid construction, bracket- 
lamps, many windows, and a cavernous stone fire- 
place in which a roaring blaze of logs leaped and 
crackled. The size and scale of it all fairly awed 
the boys, and they stared eagerly around for Mt. 
Thornton. To their disappointment the banker 
was not to be seen. 

‘‘He had to go to Washington unexpected,^’ ex- 
plained the man in charge to Mr. Curtis. “But 
he sent word you was to make yourselves at 
home, and he ’d be back just as soon as he could.” 

This put a momentary damper on the affair, 
but it was not of long duration. There was too 
much to see and do in the short time at their dis- 
posal for regrets of any sort. There was little 
accomplished that night, however. After a hearty 
supper, beds were made up on the floor and every 
one was glad to turn in early. 

They were up with the sun, and then began a 
strenuous period of mingled work and play which 
filled to overflowing each waking hour of the three 


284 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


days that followed. They got out the tents and 
erected them in the old places. They took hikes 
and motor-boat trips; they fished and explored, 
talked to each other with signal-flags, and put in 
a commendable amount of time on their drill. 
They were so constantly employed extracting the 
last atom of enjoyment from the brief vacation 
that they quite failed to notice the slight abstrac- 
tion of their scoutmaster, or the manner in which 
he watched the mails and fairly devoured the daily 
paper. Not one of them found time even to 
glance at that paper himself, much less think of, or 
discuss the affairs of the nation and the world. 
Then, suddenly, came the awakening. 

It was toward noon on the fourth day of their 
stay — a Tuesday; they remembered that after- 
ward. The crowd had been for a hike to Lost 
Mine, and, returning, had dawdled lazily, for the 
air was almost oppressively balmy. Dale, Ranny, 
and Court Parker were considerably ahead of the 
others, and as they reached the parade-ground 
they came suddenly upon Harry Vedder, whose 
turn it had been to fetch the mail and paper. The 
plump boy^s face was flushed and moist; his ex- 
pression fairly exuded importance. 

‘‘Well!^^ he stated, without waiting for them 
to speak. ‘‘It ’s come.’’ 

Ranny stared. ‘ ‘ Come ?’ ’ he repeated. ‘ ‘ What 


WAE! 285 

are you talking about, Dumpling! Wbat ’s 
come ! ’ ’ 

Vedder puffed out bis fat cheeks. ‘‘War!’’ be 
said solemnly. 

For an instant no one spoke. Dale felt a queer, 
tingling thrill go through him. The thing 
seemed unreal, impossible. Somehow these past 
few weeks of delay and hesitation had thrust the 
idea farther and farther into the background of 
his mind. He caught a glimpse of Parker’s face, 
dazed and incredulous. 

‘ ‘ What ! ’ ’ gasped Kanny. “You mean with — ’ ’ 

“Yep,” nodded Vedder. “The President made 
a fine speech last night to Congress, or something. 
I heard ’em talking about it at the post-office. 
Everybody ’s as excited as the dickens. I guess 
it ’s in all the papers, too, only Mr. Curtis’s 
was n’t open.” 

Dale’s eyes sought headquarters tent. Under 
the rolled-up flap he could see the scoutmaster 
sitting on his cot, his head bent intently over an 
outspread paper. Again that curious tingling 
went through the boy. Behind him the shouts 
and laughter of the approaching crowd seemed 
suddenly incongruous and out of place. He 
glanced again at Vedder, whose round face still 
radiated self-importance, and wondered how the 
boy could look so smug and complacent. 


286 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOKS 


‘^Did Congress declare war?’’ asked Eanny, 
abruptly. 

dnnno; I guess so. They ’re going to raise 
a whopping army. I heard one man say every- 
body from nineteen to twenty-five would have to 
go.” 

^^Have to go!” shrilled Court Parker. ^‘Why, 
they ’ll want to go, won’t they? I wish I was 
more than sixteen.” 

Unconsciously the four were moving toward 
the scoutmaster’s tent. Others, hearing a word 
or two, caught up with them, and the news was 
passed quickly along. The throng paused at the 
tent entrance. Dale caught a glimpse of the 
newspaper across the top of which flared in black 
capitals ; 

PEESIDENT CALLS FOE WAE 
DECLAEATION 

‘‘It ’s true, then, Mr. Curtis!” Eanny Phelps 
exclaimed. “I thought it was coming. When 
are they going to — ” 

“Hold your horses, Eanny,” interrupted the 
scoutmaster. He stood up and came toward 
them, his face curiously elated. “There ’s no 
time to answer a lot of questions now. Mess-call 
will sound any time. Hustle and wash up, fel- 
lows, and after dinner we ’ll talk this over.” 


WAR! 


287 


Curious and excited as they were, no one pro- 
tested. They scattered to their tents, chattering 
volubly, and the mess-call found them still specu- 
lating and asking questions of one another. Dur- 
ing the meal the discussion continued but in a 
slightly more subdued key. A state of things 
which at first had seemed merely exciting and 
soul-stirring was coming home more keenly. 
They were beginning to make individual applica- 
tions. Captain Chalmers would be called out, of 
course. Though over thirty, Mr. Curtis himself 
might enlist. Then some one thought suddenly 
of Wesley Becker, who was just nineteen. That 
seemed the strangest thing of all, for Wes, despite 
his semi-leadership, was merely one of themselves. 
But of course it was all the merest speculation; 
they didn’t really know anything yet. So when 
the meal was over and Mr. Curtis rose slowly in 
his place, there was a long, concerted sigh of re- 
laxing tension. 

^‘Fellows,” began the scoutmaster, quietly, 
want to read you the President’s message deliv- 
ered to Congress last night. You won’t find it 
dull. On the contrary it ’s about the most vivid, 
vital piece of writing I have ever read. It puts 
clearly before us the situation we are facing. It 
will make you prouder than ever of your country 
and its head. ’ ’ 


288 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

And without further preamble he began to read 
that wonderful document which has stirred the 
world and has taken its place among the immor- 
tal utterances of men. And as he read, eyes 
brightened, boyish faces flushed, brown hands 
gripped the rough edges of bench or table, or 
strained tightly over clasped knees. He finished, 
and there came a brief, eloquent moment of utter 
silence, followed by a swift outburst of wild ap- 
plause. 

The scoutmaster ^s face lit up with a smile. 
‘Ht ’s great, is n’t it! he said. ‘‘Makes you feel 
mighty proud to have a man like that at the 
helm.” He folded the paper and laid it on the 
table before him. “And now,” he went on, his 
shoulders squaring a bit, “I want to say a few 
words myself. A state of war exists, for Con- 
gress cannot help but back up the man who wrote 
that message. It ’s been coming for a long time. 
Many of us have felt it and tried to plan a little 
in advance. Your signaling and first aid and 
drilling have all been with that idea in view. 
What I want now is that you shall give more time 
than ever to those things — practically all the rest 
of your time in camp here. Remember George 
Lancaster, that English chap who was in Troop 
One several years ago. To-day he ’s one of the 
best signalers in the British army. It will mean 


WAE! 


289 


hard work, but, unless I ’m far wrong, work will 
swiftly come to be the great slogan throughout 
the country. Will you do this, fellows? Stand 
up, every one who ^s willing.’’ 

There was a rush, a clatter — a bench was 
overturned — in ten seconds not a boy remained 
seated. 

‘ ^ Fine ! ’ ’ smiled Mr. Curtis. ‘ ^ I thought I could 
count on you. When Mr. Thornton comes on 
Friday we ’ll show him something that will sur- 
prise him. And we ’ll give those folks at the 
rally something to think about, too.” 

‘‘But are we still going to have the rally, sir?” 
asked Bob Gibson. 

Mr. Curtis laughed. “Of course we are,” he 
said emphatically. “You mustn’t think, Bob, 
that a state of war is going to disrupt the entire 
country. That would be hysterical. There ’ll be 
unusual doings, of course. Things will be a bit 
different in many ways. But school and chores 
and all the ordinary routine of your daily lives 
must go on as they always have. Suppose we get 
out now and work up a little program for Mr. 
Thornton’s benefit.” 

The days that followed, so radically different 
from anything the boys had planned, showed up 
their spirit admirably. Of course there were 
grumblers ; those develop in any situation where 


290 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


discipline is involved. There were many mo- 
ments of weariness and discouragement, too, 
when it seemed as if proficiency could never be 
attained. But underneath it all, stirring, invigor- 
ating, that wonderful sense of service — service to 
another, service to their country, perhaps, upheld 
and strengthened them. What they were doing 
was not merely play. Some day or other, far 
away or near, it would be of value ; and the meas- 
ure of that value no man could tell. 

Mr. Thornton was due to reach camp Friday 
afternoon. The Aquita, in charge of Wesley 
Becker and another scout, went over to meet him, 
and as soon as the motor-boat was seen return- 
ing, a bugle blast summoned the others hastily 
from their tents. 

“Fall in!’’ ordered Mr. Curtis, crisply. 
“Phelps will take charge while I go down to the 
dock.” 

Only their eyes moved, but these followed him 
to the landing and they saw Mr. Thornton step 
ashore and pause for a moment or two of con- 
versation before heading for the parade-ground. 
The banker’s face looked tired and his shoulders 
drooped a little. But as he caught sight of the 
scouts drawn up in a straight, soldierly line be- 
hind the colors his head went up and his eyes 
brightened with surprise and interest. 


WAR ! 291 

’Tention, troop!'’ called Mr. Curtis, sharply. 
‘‘Right dress! — Front! — Present arms!" 

The “arms" were, of course, their staves, hut 
the manoeuver was executed with a snap and pre- 
cision which many a company of militia might 
have envied. Then came the command, “Count 
off!" followed by, “Fours left — march!" and 
the squad swung smartly down the parade-ground. 

In the half-hour of manoeuvering which fol- 
lowed — and this included some fairly difficult for- 
mations for new recruits — every boy gave the best 
that was in him. And when it was all over, the 
expression on Mr. Thornton's face was quite re- 
ward enough, At the command, ‘ ‘ Fall out ! ' ' they 
surged around him, shaking him by the hand, 
thanking him exuberantly, and all trying at once 
to tell him how much more wonderful everything 
was than they had expected. 

The council-fire that night was built out on the 
point instead of in the great stone fireplace. Be- 
cause of Mr. Thornton's presence, a special pro- 
gram had been arranged. There were scout 
games and stunts in abundance, songs galore, and 
a number of other features which had proved ef- 
fective last summer. But it wasn't quite all 
gaiety and careless amusement. Mingling with 
the joking and laughter and occasional bit of sky- 
larking was a touch of sober seriousness. It was 


292 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


their last night in camp together. Moreover, 
from that momentous Tuesday things had never 
been really quite the same. Their daily drills and 
practice were rousing in them a sense of respon- 
sibility. They knew that all over the country 
preparations for war were being pushed ener- 
getically. There had been time also, to hear 
from home — of how this brother talked of enlist- 
ing in the marines, or that cousin, a member of 
Captain Chalmers’s own regiment, who had been 
ordered to hold himself in readiness to join the 
colors. And so at the end, standing shoulder to 
shoulder around the blaze, their young voices ring- 
ing out in the stirring strains of ‘‘America,” more 
than one throat tightened, and there were few 
who did not feel a tingling thrill beyond the thrill 
those verses usually evoked. 

There came a pause. Then slowly John Thorn- 
ton rose and stood for a moment facing them in 
silence. 

“I want to thank you, boys,” he said at length, 
in tones which emotion had rendered brusk and 
almost harsh. “It — it has been a privilege and 
more than pleasure to see your surprising work 
this afternoon and to be with you in this wa 3 " to- 
night. I am proud of you — prouder than you can 
ever know. I can say nothing more than this,” 
and his voice rang out suddenly with a note that 


WAR! 


293 


stirred them inexplicably: ‘‘If only the youth of 
our country will measure up to your standards in 
the crisis that is before us, we need fear nothing 
for the future.” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


‘‘eveky scout to feed a soldiee’’ 

T he returning scouts found Hillsgrove buzz- 
ing with preparation. In fact, so changed 
was the atmosphere of the town that it was hard 
to believe they had been away for little more than 
a week. Several of the young men had already 
enlisted in army or navy. The post-office, court- 
house, and many of the stores displayed inspiring 
posters urging others to do the same. A home 
guard was being organized for the purpose of 
dealing effectually with any sort of disturbance 
from resident foreigners, while a number of men, 
both young and middle-aged, talked of forming 
a regular military troop to be drilled twice weekly 
on the green by army officers or men who had 
been at Plattsburg. 

It was all stirring and inspiring, and there is 
no telling to what extent the members of Troop 
Five might have become involved had not Mr, 
Curtis given them a serious talk at the first meet- 
ing after their return from camp. Captain Chal- 
mers had departed with his regiment to take up 

294 


EVEEY SCOUT TO FEED A SOLDIER 295 


guard duty along the line in one of the important 
railroads of the State, leaving Mr. Curtis in 
general charge of the scout situation at Hills- 
grove ; so that this talk was later repeated in sub- 
stance at meetings of the other troops. 

‘‘I know you ’re all very keen to get into things 
and do your bit, ’ ’ he said, when the boys gathered 
around him in the parish house. ‘‘The only 
question, of course, is how you can be most use- 
ful without frittering away your time. I ’ve 
taken the matter up with headquarters, and talked 
it over with the mayor and several other men, 
and have come to this conclusion: first of all, 
we ’ll go ahead with our preparations for the 
rally, but instead of having it a free exhibition, 
as we planned, we ’ll charge admission and turn 
over the proceeds to the Red Cross. Next, I ’m 
going to organize a signaling corps and a first- 
aid division formed of the real experts in each 
troop. There may be no immediate use for either 
of these, but you ’ll be ready when the time comes. 
Then there is the detail of helping to keep public 
order, in which the Boy Scouts have always been 
especially useful. There is no telling when or 
where you may be called upon, but your training 
and discipline helps you to quick thinking and 
action.” 

He paused an instant, and then his voice took 


296 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

on a deeper, more earnest note. ^VBut more im- 
portant than anything else just now is the need 
for each one of you to do everything in his power 
to help conserve and increase the food supply. 
All over the world this supply is low. The whole 
of Europe looks to us for a goodly proportion of 
its daily bread, and we Ve got to meet that ex- 
pectation. We Ve got to make this a year of 
bumper crops, even at a time when labor will 
naturally be scarcer than ever. And to help out 
in this crisis the men at the head of the Boy 
Scout movement have adopted a motto — a slogan 
— ^which should be first and foremost in every 
scout’s mind until the war is over. ^ Every Scout 
to Feed a Soldier ! ’ Is n ’t that fine 1 A scout with 
a hoe may equal a man with a gun. The Presi- 
dent himself has stated more than once that a 
man may serve his country as effectually in the 
corn-field as at the front. And how much more 
is this the duty of a boy whose age makes it im- 
possible for him to reach the firingdine. I Ve 
known you fellows too long and too intimately to 
have any doubts as to your responses to this ap- 
peal. Those of you who have home gardens that 
will take all your time must look after them, re- 
leasing, if possible, some man for other work. 
The others, I hope, will volunteer their services to 
any one needing them, and I expect very soon to 


EVEBY SCOUT TO FEED A SOLDIEE 297 

have an organized clearing-house for farmers in 
the neighborhood needing help and boys willing 
to furnish it. I may say that any one going into 
this will be allowed to absent himself from the 
afternoon school session and all day on Wednes- 
days. Later, the schools may be closed entirely 
for workers. Now, I know this does n’t sound 
nearly so stirring and patriotic as joining a mili- 
tary company and drilling and all that; but this 
is n ’t a moment in which to pick and choose. The 
duty of each one of us is to give himself where he 
is most needed. And, believe me, fellows, by help- 
ing to plant and harvest you will be performing 
the highest sort of service to your country and 
humanity. I want you to think this over to-night, 
and from to-morrow on I ’ll be ready to take the 
names of volunteers.” 

It was a rather silent crowd that filed out of 
the meeting-room a little later. To the great ma- 
jority Mr. Curtis’s proposition certainly didn’t 
sound in the least interesting or alluring. On 
the contrary it had a decidedly depressing effect, 
and several openly declared that they ’d be 
hanged if they ’d spend the entire summer in that 
kind of drudgery. But second thought, aided, 
perhaps, by a little solid advice at home, wrought 
a change. The next afternoon the fellows held a 
private meeting of their own at which the few 


298 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

persistent objectors were crushed by bodily force^ 
when necessary, and which ended in the whole 
troop volunteering as a body. 

It was n’t at all an easy thing for some of them 
to do. In boys like Ranny Phelps, who loathed 
'‘grubbing with a hoe” and had never had the 
slightest experience in farming, it was something 
almost akin to heroism. But not one of them 
shirked or backed down. Within a week they 
were all placed, and, from that time on, blistered 
hands, weary backs, and aching muscles were the 
order of the day. As Ranny once expressed it, — 
airily, but with an underlying touch of serious- 
ness, — the only bright spots in the week were 
Sunday, when they could sleep late, and the two 
afternoons they were let off at four o’clock to 
practise for the rally. 

They made the most of those brief hours. In 
good weather the drill took place in a pasture be- 
longing to old Mr. Grimstone, after which they 
enjoyed a refreshing plunge in the lake, and gen- 
erally ended up with supper in the cabin. When 
he had time, which wasn’t often, Mr. Curtis 
joined them. Usually Ranny Phelps was in 
charge, and whenever they could they carried off 
Mr. Grimstone for supper. 

It was on one of these latter occasions, as they 
sat out on the bank of the lake after supper, that 


EVEEY SCOUT TO FEED A SOLDIER 299 

Frank Sanson suddenly voiced a feeling which 
was present, more or less often, in the breast of 
every scout in the troop. 

“Mr. Grimstone,’’ he said abruptly, “I don^t 
suppose you realize what a dandy thing you did 
when you gave us this place. I don’t know what 
we ’d do without it now; do you, fellows T’ 

There was an emphatic chorus of agreement 
which brought a touch of color into the old man’s 
leathery, tanned face and made him shuffle his 
feet uneasily. Then suddenly he raised his eyes 
and there was a twinkle in them. 

“It ain’t me you ought to thank,” he said 
abruptly. “It ’s that Dale boy there; he ’s to 
blame.” 

“Dale Tompkins!” exclaimed several surprised 
voices at once. “Why, what ’s he got to do with 
it?” 

“Most everything,” returned Grimstone, 
briefly. “It was him that brought out my dinner 
last Thanksgivin’, an cooked it, an’ et it with me. 
That ’s what give me a new idea of you boys, an’ 
nothin’ else.” 

An astonished silence followed, broken pres- 
ently by a low whistle from Mr. Curtis. “Well, 
what do you know about that, ’ ’ he murmured. ‘ ‘ A 
good turn come home to roost ! ’ ’ 

But no one heard him, for the whole crowd, as 


300 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


one boy, had pounced on Tompkins and was pum- 
meling him and rolling him about over the 
ground to the accompaniment of shouts and 
laughter and jocular, approving comment. 

Glancing sidewise at Caleb Grimstone, the 
scoutmaster ^s eyes widened with surprise and 
sudden comprehension. The old man^s gaze was 
fixed on the flushed, laughing face of the kicking, 
protesting victim. His own brown face glowed; 
his stern, tight lips were relaxed in a smile which 
was almost tender. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE SILVEK CKOSS 

I N spite of their long and careful preparation, 
the members of Troop Five were not a little 
keyed up and excited when the night of the big 
scout rally finally arrived. Each boy dressed 
with unusual care, and the majority reached the 
parish house some time before the hour named 
for assembling. From here they marched in good 
order to the old-fashioned frame building, whose 
entire third floor constituted the masonic hall, 
where the performance was to come off. Another 
troop was close on their heels, and, in their hurry 
to get there first, the boys pushed and jostled one 
another on the narrow, twisting stairs. But in 
the hallway above they paused to fall in, and at 
the word of command from Mr. Curtis they 
marched through the double doors into the 
brightly lighted assembly-room, wheeled smartly 
to the right, and took up their position at one side 
of the doorway. 

The hall was already well filled and resounded 
with the buzz of conversation. Pretty girls in 

30J 


302 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


Red Cross costumes flitted among the audience 
seeking contributions and memberships. By 
eight o^clock the rows of chairs that packed over 
half the big room were occupied, and there were 
people standing. When the doors were finally 
closed and the entertainment began, the place was 
almost uncomfortably jammed by a throng of 
proud mothers and fathers and brothers and sis- 
ters of the performers, to say nothing of a great 
many other members of the community who were 
interested in the movement or curious to see the 
result of the past year’s work. 

The first thing on the program was a review 
and inspection of the entire scout body by Cap- 
tain Chalmers, who had unexpectedly obtained 
leave of absence for the occasion. When this was 
over, there followed a brief pause, during which 
the captain, standing before the long, double row 
of boyish figures, in their trim, immaculate uni- 
forms, conferred in whispers with Scoutmaster 
Curtis, whom he had summoned from the line. 
Instantly a faint, scarcely perceptible stir swept 
down the lines of waiting scouts. What was com- 
ing? they asked themselves eagerly. Dale Tomp- 
kins caught the captain’s glance fixed on him for 
a moment, and wondered uneasily whether any- 
thing was the matter with his equipment. He 
had no time to grow seriously disturbed, however, 


THE SILVEE CEOSS 303 

before Mr. Curtis returned to the head of the 
troop and the captain faced the audience. 

dare say you have all heard more or less 
about our scout law and the high principles it 
inculcates in every boy who promises to obey it,’^ 
he said in his pleasant, easy manner. ^d like 
to tell you briefly about the way two scouts right 
here in our own town applied some of the most 
vital of these principles. The first incident hap- 
pened late last fall, when a powerfully charged 
electric wire was blown down in a storm and 
dangled in the street. A small boy saw it, and, 
without realizing the danger, grasped it in both 
hands. Instantly the current, passing into his 
body, made him helpless. He screamed with pain 
and struggled to tear himself loose, but in the 
throng that quickly gathered no one dared to 
touch him. No one, that is, until one of the 
scouts I speak of appeared. He had been a ten- 
derfoot only a few days, but he was a true scout 
at heart. Without hesitation he gripped‘the child 
by one shoulder and was instantly flung the width 
of the street. Eecovering, he remembered some- 
thing he had read about electricity and insula- 
tion, remembered that paper was a good non-con- 
ductor and rubber even better. In a flash he had 
wrapped about his hands some of the newspapers 
he carried, flung down his waterproof delivery- 


304 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 

bag to stand on, and went again to the aid of the 
child, this time successfully. It was not only a 
brave deed, but he kept his head; and when the 
danger was over he slipped quietly away without 
waiting for either praise or thanks.’^ 

A burst of applause and hand-clapping came 
from the audience, and while waiting for it to 
subside the captain glanced again toward Dale 
Tompkins. This time he did not meet the boy’s 
questioning glance, but saw only drooping lids 
and a face flushed crimson. His smile deepened 
a little as he raised one hand for silence. 

“A few months later the other scout was skat- 
ing with a companion on Crystal Lake. He could 
swim only a few strokes, but when the second 
boy broke through the ice he did not hesitate an 
instant in going to his rescue. He was dragged 
into the water and nearly drowned, but he, too, 
kept his head and held up his friend until help 
came. 

like to think that the actions of those two 
boys was typical rather than exceptional. I don’t 
believe there is a scout here,” his glance swept 
the line of khaki-clad figures for an instant, ‘^who, 
given the chance to risk his life for another, would 
not respond exactly as these boys did. When I 
heard of what they had done I applied to our na- 
tional council for honor medals such as are 


THE SILVEE CROSS 


305 


awarded to scouts for the saving of life. They 
arrived some time ago, but I awaited this occasion 
to present them. Scouts Dale Tompkins and 
Frank Sanson will please step forward.’’ 

Amid the thunder of applause that followed, 
Captain Chalmers turned and faced the line of 
scouts again, two small square boxes in his hand. 
Dazed, bewildered, and blushing furiously. Dale 
stood as if rooted to the spot until Harry Vedder 
gave him a sharp dig in the ribs. Then he stum- 
bled forward a few steps, realized that another 
halting figure was beside him, and, recovering a 
little, but with face still flushing, he crossed the 
interminable space to where the captain stood. 

One thing only was he thankful for at that mo- 
ment — the heartening touch of Sanson’s shoulder 
against his own. To have faced the ordeal alone 
would have been almost intolerable. He did not 
raise his eyes above the third button on the cap- 
tain’s coat, and so he missed the look of pride and 
approval the man bent on him as he pinned the sil- 
ver cross upon the boy’s left breast. 

‘Ht is a great pleasure for me to give you this,” 
he said, ‘^and to thank you in the name of the 
national council for having proved so great a 
credit to the scouts.” 

Dale’s hand went up, and he saluted. ‘‘Thank 
you, sir,” he said in a low tone. 


306 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 


^‘And remember, both of you,’’ went on the cap- 
tain, when he had placed the second cross on San- 
son’s coat, ‘‘that it isn’t the medal that counts, 
but the deed which has earned it. ’ ’ 

As the boys turned and marched back to their 
places the applause burst out again with renewed 
vigor until it seemed as if it would never cease. 
But at length it died away and the entertainment 
proceeded. Troop Three started off with an ex- 
hibition of signaling which was swift, snappy, and 
on the minute. Then came some tent-erecting, 
and, following that, two troops combined to give 
an elaborate and graphic exhibition of their ex- 
pertness in first aid, which met with much favor. 
When this was over, the troops who had finished 
lined up and stood at ease on either side of the 
center to give Troop Five room for their evolu- 
tions. 

Bob Gibson’s position was directly in front of 
the closed double doors leading into the hall. He 
had scarcely taken it before he became conscious 
of a distinct odor of something burning. For a 
moment he was uneasy ; then he remembered that 
there was a register just behind him, and de- 
cided that the janitor had probably chosen this 
auspicious moment to consume in the furnace the 
rubbishy accumulation of several offices on the 
lower floors. 


THE SILVEE CEOSS 


307 


When the applause that greeted their appear- 
ance had subsided, Mr. Curtis stepped forward to 
explain briefly the purpose of their drill. He had 
scarcely spoken more than a sentence or two when 
Gibson became aware of a slight stir among some 
of the audience and noticed that a number of those 
in the front row seemed to be staring fixedly at 
his feet. 

A flush mounted to Bob’s forehead. He was 
quite sure his shoes were immaculately polished. 
He also realized perfectly that he ought not no- 
tice the audience, but remain rigidly at attention. 
But presently curiosity got the better of dis- 
cipline. He shot a furtive glance at his feet — a 
glance that flashed sidewise beyond the trim shoes 
and well-fitting leggings to rest in dumb, horrified 
amazement on the crack extending below the 
double doors, through which a thin line of smoke 
was slowly trickling. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE BIOT WEDGE 

F or a long moment Bob Gibson stood like one 
petrified. He thought of the crowd, of the 
narrow, twisted stairs, of panic. What ought he 
do? What was there possible for him to do? 
He tried to remember what the scout book 
said about fires and panics, but his brain seemed 
numb. Before it had cleared there came a chok- 
ing cry from the other side, and Bennie Rhead, the 
youngest scout in the troop, slipped out of the line, 
and before any one could stop him, had jerked 
open the door to let in a rolling cloud of dense 
black smoke. 

Like a flash Wesley Becker leaped after him, 
dragged him back, and slammed the door ; but the 
damage was done. There was a long, gasping, 
concerted sigh, as of hundreds of people catching 
their breath in unison ; in a second more the hall 
resounded with that cry which chills the blood 
and sends shivers chasing down the spine. To 
Gibson, standing pale and frightened, it seemed 
as if that whole close-packed assemblage surged 

308 


THE RIOT WEDGE 


309 


up like some awful monster and rushed toward 
him, a bedlam of shrill sound; while out of doors 
the wild clamor of the fire-alarm suddenly burst 
forth to add horror to the scene. 

Shaking and terrified, Bob nevertheless stood 
motionless, partly because he did not know what 
else to do, but mainly because the fellows on either 
side of him had not stirred. He dug his teeth 
into his under lip to keep back a frightened whim- 
per, and then of a sudden the clear, high voice of 
Mr. Curtis rang out above the deafening din and 
turmoil : 

‘‘Troop Five prepare to form double riot 
wedge! One!^’ 

Instinctively Bob leaped two paces forward and 
a little to the right. In like fashion the others 
darted to their positions with the swift precision 
of machines. Not a scout failed. Even Bennie 
Rhead, frightened as he was, made no mistake, 
and in a trice the wedge was complete. 

“Two!’’ shouted the scoutmaster. 

Down swung the staves, interlocking in a 
double barrier of stout hickory backed by equally 
sturdy muscle. The scoutmaster had barely time 
to place himself at the apex of the wedge before 
the mob struck it. 

“Hold fast, boys !” he cried. “Brace your feet 
and don’t let them break the line!” He flung up 


310 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


both arms in the faces of the maddened throng. 
‘‘Stop!^^ he shouted. ‘^You can’t get out this 
way. The stairs are impassable. Stop crowd- 
ing! There ’s no danger if you keep your heads. 
The fire-escapes are in good order. The win- 
dows — ” 

The rest was choked off by the crushing weight 
of the mob dashing against the barrier. Even in 
the second row Bob felt the double line shake and 
give under the strain, and instinctively he dropped 
a shoulder against the pressure and spread out 
his legs to brace himself. Macllvaine noticed 
what he was doing, and shouted to the others to 
follow Bob’s example; and presently the line 
steadied and held. Then a shrill whistle cut 
through the clamor, stilling it a little and making 
it possible to hear the stentorian voice of Captain 
Chalmers from somewhere in the rear of the 
crowd. 

‘‘You can’t get out by the stairs! There are 
fire-escapes at both front and rear. Ladders will 
soon be raised to the other windows. There ’s 
no danger if you only keep your heads. Stop 
crowding and form in line at the windows. 
Scouts will see that these lines are kept and that 
the women and children are taken out first. ’ ’ 

An inarticulate murmur follow^ed his words, but 
the wild din of a moment before was not resumed. 


Hold fast, boj’s!” he cried. “Brace your feet and don't let them break the line! 





THE EIOT WEDGE 


313 


In a moment, too, the pressure of bodies against 
the double line of scouts about the door began to 
relax as those in the rear made haste to seek other 
ways of escape. Presently it had ceased entirely, 
and as the boys straightened up from their 
cramped positions Mr. Curtis turned to face them. 

‘‘I ’m proud of you, fellows,” he said in a low, 
quick tone. ‘‘That was corking! Steady, now, 
for a minute or two longer.” 

That minute or two seemed the longest space 
of time Bob Gibson had ever known. Now that 
the stress and strain of strenuous action was re- 
moved he had time to think, to wonder — to be 
afraid. His mother and father were both here; 
so was Ted and little Flossie. Had they been in 
that awful crush? he wondered, as his anxious 
gaze flashed from one to another of the scurry- 
ing groups. Had they been hurt? The smoke 
was pouring more thickly into the hall, stinging 
his eyes and catching his throat in a choking sort 
of grip. Through the open windows came the 
clash and clang of engines, the muffled roar of 
excited crowds gathering below. Bob could see 
nothing of his mother or the children, and a dry 
sob came from his tight lips. 

“ ’Tention!” called the scoutmaster, sharply. 
“We fll take the two windows at this side of the 
front, fellows. Line up on either side of them, 


314 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


and keep the crowd in order. Women and chil- 
dren first, remember. Left face ! March ! ^ ^ 

Bob pivoted mechanically and moved forward 
in step with Macllvane. Through the swirling 
smoke he could see that the other troops had 
gathered at different windows and were keeping 
the crowd in line, helping the women and small 
children through to the fire-escapes or out to the 
ladders which had just been raised. By this time 
the men, for the most part, had recovered from 
their panic and were helping in the work. Sud- 
denly the boy caught sight of his mother in the 
line of people close by the next window. She was 
carrying Flossie, and his father had Ted over 
one shoulder. They both looked so calm and 
brave that Bob’s spine stiffened, and when he 
caught his mother’s eye a moment later he was 
able to smile and wave his hand almost as care- 
lessly as if his heart wasn’t pounding unevenly 
at the sudden realization that not a scout could 
stir until every one else was out of the building. 

It was n’t a conscious longing for any one else’s 
place. It was blind fear, pure and simple; and 
though he tried to crush it down by thinking of 
the people he was helping, it persisted and grew 
stronger, just as the smoke grew steadily denser 
and more choking, and the crackle of flames 
seemed to come from behind the closed doors with 


THE EIOT WEDGE 


315 


ominous distinctness. When the electric lights 
suddenly went out leaving only the two oil side- 
lamps burning dimly, it was all he could do to 
keep from crying out with terror. Indeed, he in- 
stinctively took a quick step out of line toward 
the window, but Mr. Curtis’s cool voice halted 
him: 

‘‘Steady, Bob. Not quite yet.” 

The boy’s fingers dug into his palms and he 
stepped quickly back into his place, a flush of 
shame mantling his cheeks. Had any of the other 
fellows noticed? he wondered. His questioning 
glance swept along the line and was suddenly ar- 
rested by the face of Dale Tompkins, who stood 
a little beyond. 

Dale was not looking at him; on the contrary, 
he was staring back into the murky gloom of the 
big room with an expression of such desperate 
anxiety and fear that Gibson’s heart leaped, and 
instinctively he turned his head to see what new 
peril threatened. When he glanced back, after a 
scrutiny that revealed nothing unexpected, Tomp- 
kins had disappeared. 

“He’s gone!” gasped the boy, his surprise 
mingled with a touch of envy. “He ’s cut out and 
got away!” 

But Dale had not run away. At that very mo- 
ment, instead of flying panic-stricken to a window. 


316 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLORS 


as Bob supposed, he was groping his way through 
the darkness toward the farther end of the smoke- 
filled hall. As he passed behind the line of scouts 
and pushed on through the thinning throng of 
frightened people, fear filled his soul and brought 
a tortured look into his smarting eyes — that fear 
for another which is often so much more gripping 
than the fear for self. 

Ages ago, it seemed to the anxious boy, Eanny 
Phelps had disappeared in this same direction and 
had not returned. Dale had caught a disjointed 
word or two about water-buckets, but where they 
were or to what use Eanny meant to put them 
he did not know. With growing alarm he had 
watched and waited, and then, unable to stand 
the suspense another instant, he slipped out of the 
line and went to seek his friend. 

As he passed the double doors the smoke 
seemed to thicken, causing him to choke and sput- 
ter. Where was it coming from, he wondered 
dazedly. It was as if great volumes were pour- 
ing freely into the hall, yet the doors to the corri- 
dor had been closed from the first. 

He stumbled over a chair and nearly fell. Re- 
covering, his outstretched hands struck the wall, 
and he began to feel his way along it. Presently 
his fingers gripped the edge of a door-casing, and 
he staggered back as a fresh burst of sutfocating 


THE EIOT WEDGE 


317 


fumes caught his lungs with a smothering clutch. 

For an instant he stood there reeling. Then 
in a flash he remembered the coat-room, remem- 
bered the narrow pair of stairs leading down 
from one corner with a row of red fire-buckets 
on a bench beside it. These were the buckets 
Kanny had come for. The door to the stairs was 
— open ! 

He caught his breath with a dry sob and plunged 
into the pitchy darkness of the smaller room. 
Two steps he took — three. Then his foot struck 
against something, and he fell forward over a 
body stretched out on the floor, his out-thrust arms 
reaching beyond it. 

For a moment he thought it was all over. His 
senses were swimming in the clouds of deadly 
smoke pouring up from below, and it took an ap- 
preciable second or two to realize that the thing 
one hand clutched instinctively was the edge of 
an open door. Almost as instinctively he sum- 
moned all his strength and flung it to. The result- 
ing slam came as something indistinct and far 
away. He wondered if he were losing conscious- 
ness, and in the same breath his jaw squared with 
the stubborn determination that he would not — 
he must not ! As he reached up to tear the wide 
handkerchief from about his neck his fingers 
brushed the silver cross pinned to his left breast, 


318 UNDEE BOY SCOUT COLOES 


and the touch seemed to give him fresh courage. 

With feverish haste he felt for Eanny's wrists, 
knotted the neckerchief about them, and, drawing 
them over his head, began to crawl toward the 
door. Too late he remembered the water in the 
buckets and wished he had thought to dip a hand- 
kerchief in that to breathe through. Doubtless it 
was that very idea which had brought Eanny him- 
self here. But he did not dare turn back, and 
after all, now that the stair door was closed, the 
smoke did not seem quite so dense, especially 
down here on the floor. 

He reached the door and crawled through, drag- 
ging his helpless burden with him. Through the 
smoke the farther windows were vaguely outlined 
against a flickering, reddish background. A 
brighter line of fire marked the crack beneath 
the double doors. Under his body, too, the floor 
felt hot, and he could sense a queer, uneven pulsa- 
tion as if the boards were moving. What if the 
flames should burst through before they could get 
away?* What if — 

‘‘Dale! Eanny! Where are you!’’ 

It was the scoutmaster’s voice, and Dale’s broke 
a little as he answered. In another moment Mr. 
Curtis was beside him, bending to lift the uncon- 
scious boy in his arms. 


THE RIOT WEDGE 319 

‘‘Are you all right T’ he asked tersely as he 
turned toward the windows. 

“Yes.” 

Scrambling to his feet, Dale stumbled after him. 
A crackling roar from behind the closed doors 
made him shiver. The windows were clear. 
Every one seemed to have left the hall save a 
single figure standing beside the nearest opening, 
one leg already over the sill. 

“Quick, Wes!” snapped Mr. Curtis. “Get out 
on the ladder and take him. Fireman’s lift, you 
know.” 

Becker obeyed swiftly, and, swinging the limp 
body over his shoulder, disappeared from view. 

“Now, Dale,” ordered the scoutmaster. 
“You — ” 

The words were drowned in a crashing roar as 
the doors fell in. There was a sudden, blinding 
burst of flame, a wave of scorching heat that 
seemed to sear into Dale’s very soul. He flung up 
both hands before his eyes, and, as he did so, two 
arms grasped him about the body and fairly 
whirled him through the window to the ladder. 

“Catch hold and slide!” commanded the scout- 
master. “Hustle!” 

Mechanically, as he had done a score of times 
in their fire-drills from the roof of Mr. Curtis’ 


320 UNDER BOY SCOUT COLORS 

barn, Dale curled arms and legs about the ladder 
sides, shut his eyes, and slid. Part way down a 
blast of heat struck his face; then hands caught 
him, easing the descent, and he found himself on 
the ground, with firemen all around and the cool 
spray from- one of the big, brass-nozzled hoses 
drifting across him. He had scarcely time to step 
away from the ladder when Mr. Curtis, with hair 
singed and clothes smoking, shot out of the flame- 
tinged smoke and came down with a rush, while 
from the anxious crowd there burst a loud cheer 
of relief and laxing tension. 

Dale blinked and drew the clean air into his 
lungs with long, uneven breaths. Then the grimy 
face of Court Parker popped up suddenly before 
him. 

‘‘Where ’s Wes, and — and Ranny!” demanded 
Tompkins sharply. 

‘ ‘ Over there. ’ ’ 

Dale pushed his way across the street and up 
to the edge of a circle that some of the scouts 
had formed about a small group on the farther 
sidewalk. This opened to let him through, and 
as he stood looking down on the handsome, black- 
ened, pallid face of the boy Becker and Macllvaine 
were working over, something seemed to grip his 
throat and squeeze it tight. 

“Is he — ” he stammered, “will he — ” 


1 9 


5 


THE EIOT WEDGE 


321 


Becker glanced up and nodded reassuringly. 
^‘He ’s coming round all right. He ’s pretty well 
done up, that ’s all.’^ 

Under the shadowy tangle of disordered hair 
Eanny’s lids suddenly lifted, and the blue eyes 
looked straight up into Daleys face. For a second 
there was absolutely no expression in them. Then 
something flickered into the glance that made 
Dale’s heart leap and sent the blood tingling to 
the roots of his hair. A moment later the pale 
lips moved, and he bent swiftly to catch the 
words. 

knew — you ’d come — chum,” Eanny whis- 
pered. Then his lips curved in a rueful smile. 
‘^Of all the rotten luck!” he murmured. ‘‘They 
never saw — our drill.” 


THE END 




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